


Uneasy Lies the Chosen of Farore

by DrSteggy



Category: Legend of Zelda, The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Adulting sucks, Alternate Universe, Canon Typical Violence, Complete, Eventual Fluff, F/M, Family Dynamics, Fanart Welcome, Found Family, Gen, I wrote this for me but y’all can read it I guess, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Sex, It Gets Better, Master Sword, Podfic Welcome, Trauma, imposter syndrome, really adult Link, what timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:33:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 38
Words: 87,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22857055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrSteggy/pseuds/DrSteggy
Summary: Link is a 42 year old man, happily living a very ordinary life, when he unexpectedly draws the Master Sword, turning his world upside down and setting him on a path he feels unworthy of**Completed**
Relationships: Impa & Link (Legend of Zelda), Link & Zelda (Legend of Zelda), Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Comments: 545
Kudos: 224





	1. The Sword that Seals the Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> Breath of the Wild was my first Zelda and I came to it after being handed my own bunch of messy responsibility I didn’t want. I worked through a lot of this playing that game. I am not a young person anymore and I wondered what would happen if Link found his destiny as an older person, and since no one was writing that, I decided to try. 
> 
> The first chapter was published here earlier as The Master Sword: a scene. Pulling out that sword in Breath of the Wild didn’t look pleasant, and eventually I had to write it down. That scene slowly grew into something bigger.
> 
> **I am open to tag suggestions, as well.**

“Someone drew the sword? Today?”

“Today, your highness. His name is Link.”

Silence. Then “That’s… a common name, isn’t it? There are at least two in the royal guard. Which one?”

“Not the guard.” Pause. “This one is a lifer, but no longer active duty. He got himself injured a few years ago. Now he teaches.”

The queen stared across her desk at the wall. Silence stretched out between the two of them like a cat. 

“He is sharing his experience with the recruits,” her captain offered.

“So, how old is he, exactly, then?” She asked. She rubbed her temples and closed her eyes, watching the whole situation worsen in front of her. 

Nothing.

“Has this blade ever chosen someone over the age of 18? I thought the whole reason we present very young boys to it was because it chooses the very young?”

Her captain drew a breath and stopped whatever he was going to say. 

She repeated herself. “How old is he?”

“He is forty-two, your highness.”

Forty-two.

“Can I ask what a _forty-two_ year old man was doing when he got his hands on the Master Sword?” She slid her face into her hands, bracing for impact.

“He was leading the group presenting to the sword. He has brought children to the sword annually for the past three or four years.”

“Surely he was presented when he was younger- he must tug on that sword every year! Why now?”

“Today, it seems, the blade found him worthy.”

*********

It sounded so easy. The sword knew what it wanted, and when that person wrapped a hand around the hilt, it would slide out of the pedestal. That’s the moment where all is right. More than right. It’s a moment where one touches something sacred. 

No living person has ever actually seen this moment, of course. Some theorized that the odd sword in the stone was just a trick and couldn’t actually be removed. No one had seen it so much as wiggle in centuries. 

It certainly hadn’t budged for him when he was sixteen. He remembered the hope he’d felt, the but what if- and then he’d touched the cobalt blue hilt, wrapped his fingers around it and pulled and… nothing. It may as well have been sculpted straight from the stone.

So. Not the chosen hero. But no one else in that group had been. Or any group after that in the 26 years since. Everyone hopes, sure, but in the end it was just a story.

Right?

Two days ago everything was normal. The day was sunny, but not too warm, and the view on the plateau was amazing as always. Camp had been set in a clearing at the foot of the hill top where the Temple of Time stood. Despite the relatively low ground, the outline of Hyrule Castle could be seen in the distance, its delicate towers and spires giving the structure a fairy tale feel from this vantage. The ominously named Death Mountain,apparently once a very active volcano rose high on the horizon, the tallest peak visible. The southern view was blocked by the rise of the hill where the temple sat, but you could see trees on the terraced landscape of Faron if you squinted a little. The temple itself sat quiet and serene, built in another age and no one was sure what purpose it had served originally.

He had been a teenager the first time he’d been here, with his entire life before him. Things had not gone exactly as he might have planned, but overall, life hadn’t been that bad. He had been a soldier in a time of peace and that was fine. He’d seen places in Hyrule and met people he would not have otherwise. Then he’d been called back to central Hyrule to oversee training young recruits. He’d been doing it for the past few years, and that was fine, too.  
  
It had been a good life so far. And then, when he retired, maybe he’d go back to that fishing village on the beach. And maybe, if she was still around and interested, he’d court up that girl, seriously this time. Though he supposed by then she would be a woman, and an old one, at that. That would be ok. More than ok. 

And if she wasn’t, maybe he could convince that reference librarian to leave the castle. Maybe. 

Two days ago, he’d been on his third or fourth trip to the Temple of Time with a bunch of kids rounded up from various villages to go see this sword in the pedestal. This trip was voluntary- what kid doesn’t secretly think they might be some hero of legend? So they took any that wanted to come; mostly boys, but a few girls the past few years too. It was pretty much a vacation: spend a few days on the road, go see some gorgeous scenery, watch children make new friends, and go back home with a story to tell.

And Hylia, but they would have quite a story this year. 

The night before presenting, they had camped outside the Temple. Link, Kota, maybe a dozen kids huddled around the campfire telling stories. The kids had probably horsed around late into the night too, but that was fine. The next day’s stakes were not particularly high, after all. 

Link woke up with a headache, a buzzing that rattled his entire skull. The light was a little too bright and everyone was a little too loud; and sure, he and Kota had shared some wine last night, but he certainly hadn’t had that much. And anyway, this wasn’t much like a hangover in the first place. It was… different. 

He toughed it out through breakfast and breaking camp but hung back a little as they approached the Temple. As they neared the building, he felt like whatever was going on inside his head was getting a tiny bit...worse? More intense?

He herded stragglers through the doors, then stepped through himself. As he did, he heard a whisper in his left ear. He jerked to a stop, ears twitching.

“Link? You alright?”

He gave his head a quick, painful shake, and held up a hand, silently asking Kota for a moment. And he listened. 

_**oh you’re finally here** _  
_**it’s time** _  
_**it’s time** _  
_**it’s time** _  
_**it’s finally Time** _

The sword rested at the center of the Temple of Time, in a triangle shaped pedestal. The stained glass windows depicted past heroes wielding that sword. Stories to thrill each other with, Link supposed. After all, they couldn’t be real, right? Some of the images baffled the mind; no creature like that could have existed. The one that had always caught his eye was of a great black beast with a spike of stone in its snout, towering on two feet will the tiny figure of a man appeared to be attacking its toes. One man with a sword going after that could only ever succeed in being lunch. 

Right?

“LINK.”

He turned to the pedestal, suspecting that hadn’t been the first time someone called his name. The sword looked different this year. It sparkled, bathed in gold light without an obvious source and oh his head. Was he having a stroke?

No one else seemed to see anything odd, though the kids had all quieted down. Now they gazed upon the sword with eager anticipation. 

_**I am so happy to see you again master it has been too long** _

“Link, are you ok?” Real concern this time.

Link waved Kota off, giving him a weak smile. “I’m fine. Let’s get this started.” 

He took a breath and steadied himself, trying to get above the headache and the whispers. “OK, everyone, settle down and listen.” He hoped his voice sounded more confident than it felt. He took a step toward the pedestal and began.

“Legend says that when great danger threatens Hyrule, a hero rises to aid the incarnation of the Goddess Hylia to stop it. This sword is the instrument the hero uses to defeat it, and when its duty is done, it comes back here to rest and wait for the next hero. Stories say the sword will only come out for the hero and no one else.”

“How does it know?” He startled a little at the young voice and his head swam.

_**Master please** _

Link closed his eyes and touched his temple with his left hand. “ No one knows. The goddesses decide who is worthy.”

“Like Queen Zelda? My mom says she’s a goddess. Why doesn’t she just pick?”

 _Oh Hylia._ Link normally enjoyed these sorts of interjections, but he just wanted to get this done and go nurse the thrum in his head somewhere quiet. He drew a deep breath. “That’s not the role the Queen plays in the story.” Maybe that was not the right tone.

He saw Kota snap his head around to give him a look and hiss in a lowered tone. “That was a little sharp, don’t you think?”

He sighed. “I’m sorry. Your mom is right. The Queen, or more usually, the Princess Zelda may be a goddess but this isn’t her role. The sword itself makes the selection as to who will be its master, and that’s why it’s called the Master Sword. We never know when it might be time, and the sword tends to pick young people, so all of you are going to try to pull it out. Like this.”

All those young faces turned to him and he straightened up. Giving his head another quick shake, Link stepped to the pedestal. Kota frowned. He knew something wasn’t right. Link’s head grew heavy with that low buzz, and he could feel it grow… anticipatory. Like the feeling one got reaching out for an intimate partner.

Not for the first time, he stood before the sword. It had never been like this though. He swallowed, and for a moment felt a flash of fear crackle on his skin. What would happen when he took the hilt?

_Nothing is going to happen. Nothing ever happens._

It was a one handed sword. He reached out with both hands, already anticipating the futile strength it would take to tug at the sword. _Nothing is going to happen. Nothing is going to happen. Nothing is going to happen._

He wrapped his hands around the hilt. His eyes fluttered closed on contact. There was a short moment where his mind was empty. Then, _oh_ goddesses _what have I done?_

Even through closed eyes, his vision was bathed in that gold light. The buzzing left his head and took his breath with it. His gut dropped and he felt like he was coming apart. He tightened his grip- and now there was a sort of joy in his head, but it didn’t belong to him, as though he was taking part of a reunion he knew nothing about.

 _ **It’s been too long, master! It is good to see you again.**_ He didn’t know who was so pleased to see him again, but they were ever so happy he’d come back. The light intensified. He pulled upward on the hilt.

And it moved, just a little. Then a little more. Outside of him, he heard a collective gasp. That’s right, he wasn’t alone in this place. But there wasn’t time for the others. The sword kept coming. It slid out of its home in the pedestal; and muscle memory he didn’t remember made him flip the point of the blade skyward, still in his two hands. He brought the flat of the blade to his forehead, reveled in a sacred moment. He took in a soft, fluttery breath and finally opened his eyes, catching their reflection in the metal. _Oh, now what?_ As simple as that and everything changes.

Was his nose bleeding now? Link collapsed. 

It sounded so easy. 


	2. The Triforce of Wisdom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How does one wrestle with the literal responsibility for the world suddenly being dumped on them? By asking for a sabbatical.

And now, two days later, he was at Hyrule Castle. Not his first time there; but certainly his first time in the inner chambers of the royal family, awaiting an audience with the queen to discuss this turn in developments. As though he had something intelligible to discuss. 

The sword sat on his back. If he turned his head over his right shoulder a little, he could see that cobalt blue handle with its oddly flipped crossguard. There was an ongoing churn in the back of his head, but he could ignore it. Mostly. He had to; the flow of it would take him over, and it wasn’t just stories. It was memories. A water temple, the moon falling from the sky, an endless ocean, a broken mirror… it was too much. Why were they all so young? It was always young people, why was he so...old?

He tried to refocus on the upcoming audience. He had seen Queen Zelda before, of course; but it had been across a large room. She’d still been a princess back then. Nothing exciting had happened. They’d just been in a room together. Hadn’t even met. And yet...if the stories and memories actually were true, then they were parts of the same puzzle. They were meant to work together. Fate and all. There was still no sign of whatever mortal danger was on the rise though. 

What was coming that required the sword to call its master?  
  
Link turned to see the hilt, wondering what it knew. “Why not when I was sixteen?” he whispered.

_**you were not ready yet, and there was no need** _

The sword didn’t speak in words, not exactly. It was like having a thought- but not _his_ thought. 

“Why now?”

No answer, but not silence. The churn roiled up. A wolf with a leg iron, a reddish brown horse with feathered legs, a huge crimson bird and the sensation of falling- he tried to focus on something, anything before he lost himself. Why now?

The door swung open. A royal guard captain. Link suspected they had been classmates many years ago; the man was passingly familiar, but Link didn’t know his name. He met the guard’s eyes and rose, giving his baldric a tug to shift the sword into a more comfortable position on his back. 

The guard’s eyes flicked to that cobalt blue handle and then back to Link’s eyes. 

“Come.” It was not a request. Link squared his shoulders and followed.

********

“Your majesty, I present Link, appointed knight of the realm, bearer of the Master Sword.”

She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but she felt underwhelmed. He looked to be her height with a slim, athletic build. His blonde ponytail had probably been platinum when he was young, but age darkened it. There was even a sprinkle of gray on top of his head. He seemed to limp just a little on the left. The man was out of uniform, too, in khaki pants with tall boots and a green tunic. He had belted the sword across his back, hilt jutting above his right shoulder, end of the blue and gold scabbard by his left hip. 

He stood squarely before her, hands at his sides. Their eyes briefly met before he seemed to remember where he was. He dropped to one knee, bowing his head. 

“Rise.”

Link stood to attention, arms falling back to his side as he met her gaze again.

“Tell me, Link, about that sword on your back. How did you come by it?”

“I pulled it from its pedestal in the Temple of Time.”

She stared straight through him. He stared back. 

“Your majesty, I have no more to say. I pulled on it. It came free.”

They considered each other again. She decided to try a different tact. 

“It is said the sword speaks to its bearer. That the chosen hero who pulls the sword from its home remembers all who have held it before him. Is this true?”

He drew a breath. In the back of his head, a dragon with three heads rose with a snarl. It was felled with a single swing of the sword. He struggled to stay in the moment. 

“It is best if you are honest. This is an unusual situation. For me, too.”

He dropped his eyes for a second and then raised them again. “Yes, it speaks. It is eager to get to work, though it won’t tell me what that work is. And yes, my head is full of memories that are not mine. It is better than when I first claimed the sword but it is work to stay on top.”

Link had felt his heart flutter on seeing the queen, but he didn’t think they were his flutters. Something in him, awakened by the sword, recognized her for who she was. Goddess, but he wondered if things would have been different if he had just married that girl in the fishing village the first time he’d met her. 

The queen’s gaze softened a little. Maybe. “We have work to do, then.”

************

No one gets to choose their fate. You can make decisions that change the general shape of their path, of course. But there are outside forces, events that you play no role in that set you on that path in the first place. You work in the world you have, thinking you are in charge of your own destiny, but really, you have less control than you believe. 

_Maybe_ , he thought, _it’s always young people because they haven’t had time to create themselves yet. They are still blank slates. When a role is thrust upon them, they have more room for it because there is little to replace_. It was different when you go through thirty years of life thinking you know how things work only to have everything turn on its head when some magic sword decides to drop in and say _surprise! This is how things will be now_ \- and you have to accept it. 

Link was sitting on his bed, with that sword out of its scabbard and laid across his lap. He hadn’t been able to sleep well since the night they camped out by the Temple of Time. Strangely enough though, he didn’t feel tired, either. 

The triforce was embossed on the blade and he traced it, thinking about what it symbolized. Power. Wisdom. Courage. The hero is supposed to be the incarnation of courage. But he didn’t feel very brave. He wasn’t sure what he felt. 

His meeting with the queen had been a review of his record; respectable enough without being overly remarkable, he felt. The high point had also been a low point. 

The day with the moblins.

He’d been riding on patrol in the woods around Hateno and they had stumbled on a group of moblins. He had heard them before seeing them and fast thinking and riding had allowed him to save the life of his commander, who had not realized he was directly in line with one of the beasts. Link managed to get between them and shield his commander. His horse hadn’t been so lucky. It took a dragonbone club to the head. The horse dropped immediately, and he’d been thrown, breaking his left leg in the fall. It had hurt like hell, but it could have been worse. He ended up recovering at home, his mother asking pointed questions about when he was going to retire. He’d gotten a commendation for bravery and was ready to get back to work once he’d healed. Eager, even. Hateno had gotten too small for him. 

The queen had also known a disturbing amount about his personal life. He had not realized anyone had been paying that much attention. She knew about Celia in the fishing village, and the reference librarian, and a number of names before them. She knew his family and commented on the quality of the horses they bred back in Hateno. She knew his brother, and his sister in law, and his nephew. 

His entire family…. Had he seen his family since the day with the moblins? Surely he had. Right? He furrowed his brow, trying to remember. 

The triangle representing courage sat on the right of the base of the triforce. He slid his finger to the triangle on its left. That one was wisdom, and he could use some right now. 

***********

“How can I help you?” she asked.

They were meeting in her office. It was where she carried out official meetings, after the death of the king. It was formal but private. 

“I need guidance. I do not know what to do with this obligation. I do not know if I can do whatever it is that is required of me.”

She was silent for a minute. “I do not think you have a choice.”

“This has always been a thing for younger people. Much younger. My prime has come and gone.”

She folded her hands in front of her and considered him. He was more accomplished than he seemed to think, but she knew she couldn’t convince him of that with mere words.

“You do not get to make that choice,” she started. “It appears that the hero and the incarnation of the goddess are meant to be contemporaries. You are older because I am older. There is currently no princess Zelda; and the next one will be my granddaughter as I am past more children, even if the king were still with us,” She leaned forward a bit and softened her voice. “I know it does not seem fair, to pull you from the place you thought you belonged and force a new world on you. This sort of thing happens all the time, especially as we get older, if you think about it. Loved ones die, for example, even long before you think that might be a possibility. Your world has changed and you can’t go back, but it was going to do that eventually anyway.

“I did not expect this call at this time, either; but I have to believe that I am prepared or I would not have been called. This has to be true for you, as well, even if you don’t see the potential.“ She put a hand over his. “This is a thing you may have wanted when you were younger, and it’s rare to have that sort of opportunity. Embrace it. It is what it is.”

She sat back and considered him. He stared hard but was otherwise unreadable. The silence lingered for a long moment. 

“I realize, Your majesty, that you have plans for some sort of training for me since my circumstances have changed,” he started. “I would like to ask for some leave. I have not seen my family in some time and I do not think this… obligation will leave me with much leisure time.”

“Of course. However… if part of your plan is to try and rekindle some past romance, I’d ask you to reconsider. For now, at least. This is a lot for you. Don’t complicate it more.”

He took his hand back and said nothing. His stony look did not change. Did she know the reference librarian had somehow heard about the sword? That there had been a letter waiting for him before he’d even gotten back from the plateau asking him to forget her?

“You do understand you have been quite the subject of discussion the past few days? Your commanding officers speak highly of you. We are going to be working closely and neither of us can be distracted.”

“I would like to go now.”

She sighed. “As you wish.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imposter Syndrome is real, people of the Internet, even when all the empirical evidence of your life says you actually are good and talented and someone who is a great role model.
> 
> It’s real.
> 
> (also, I got a comment about the ship tag, and apparently should elaborate. Give it Time. Like maybe ten chapters)


	3. Side Quest-Family Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our chosen hero learns that you can’t really go back home once you’ve outgrown it.

Five days after his last trip to the Temple of Time, he was on a borrowed bay gelding named Sam and heading to Hateno town, where his parents still lived. He could not remember the last time he’d seen them, he just hadn’t prioritized his leave. Now things were different. It was a few day’s ride, but Sam had a comfortable gait, and was fit enough to go all day. Once out of the view of Castletown, he clucked the horse to a steady canter and let the road roll away.

You can’t just let your mind wander completely on the back of a cantering horse, even on the road. You still need to watch for a rock that might cause a bruise; or a hole that would end your entire ride and maybe you, too. Horses are prey animals, and they react to things they don’t understand. You always need to be ready for a sudden spook or to slow and calm your mount. Riding is a working partnership, not mindless.

And that was ok, because being totally alone with his thoughts and whatever else was going on inside his head this week was not an idea he favored. So he scanned the road for ruts, or traffic, or potentially scary things and stayed actively above the churn. It would all come back when he stopped for the night. After the horse was hobbled and girth loosened, bridle removed to allow grazing unfettered, there was time to turn things over. He usually liked letting his mind wander while setting the saddle pad out to air and dry for the next day, rubbing his horse down, making a fire and getting ready to settle down. It was usually something meditative and calming and he enjoyed the chores to keep his mount comfortable and healthy. There was just too much bubbling under the surface now for meditation. Far too much time to be in his head alone with nothing to do. 

The churn had settled down to rapids; it was still white water, but not nearly as unpredictable. Things he didn’t understand still came up. He was woefully unaware of the details of the stories of those who had wielded that sword in the past. He figured out the big red bird with the terrifying beak belonged to the first one, and that bird had evolved into the wings of the Hyrule crest, but not why a bird in the first place. There were so many other images that made no sense and he was not sure how much he was to make of them. He feared getting lost in them. He might not come back. 

His older brother had always been interested in the stories about the hero of Hyrule, and it was a hobby of his to study them. He’d given the sword a pull, just once, but was content to take on the family business raising horses and saved researching the hero to spare time. Link had had too much wanderlust to be contained to Hateno, and that trip out to the Temple of Time had ended with him joining the military. His mother hadn’t been happy with that decision.

Three days on the road and he jogged the gelding through the arch marking the entrance to Hateno, the sun growing low in the sky. He had taken a minute to roll the sword into his bedroll before entering town. It’s a small village at the far corner of Hyrule and visitors get noticed. Returning sons more so. He could not imagine showing up with a legendary sword on his back.  _ Maybe, _ he mused, slowing the horse to a walk,  _ I’ve seen everything and ended up with nothing but this sword on my back.  _ There had been so much time until there wasn’t. 

_ You’ve met with a terrible fate, haven’t you? _

He frowned. Flotsam from the white water. 

But.

Maybe?

“Uncle Link?”

He turned to the voice...when was the last time he had seen his nephew anyway? He smiled, finally feeling like something was right. “Hey, Kobin.”

Kobin smiled back. He was what, ten, now? Twelve? “Dad said next year you can take me to see the sword.”

_ Wow. _ “Oh, I don’t think I’m doing that next year. Where is your dad, anyway?”

****************

His older brother, Kagun welcomed him warmly. His sister in law, Taphea, set an extra place at the table for dinner. The horse was settled into an open stall in their father’s barn. Link begged for a delay in visiting his parents until the next day. He had something important to tell everyone, and tonight he just wanted dinner and a solid rest before sharing his news. Kagun agreed a little reluctantly, pointing out that their father would see the horse bearing castle brands in the morning and figure things out.

“How is the old man?” Asked Link, wiping the last of the stew off his plate with a piece of bread. 

“He still loves horses and mom and not a whole lot else. Well, he loves his grandson,” Kagun placed a hand on Kobin’s head, and the boy shook him off. “This child gets away with things we definitely did not.”

“Tough as ever, then.” 

“I know you two have your differences, Link. He does miss you, even if he doesn’t show it very well.”

Link gave a noncommittal grunt. “Dinner was excellent, Taph, thank you. I might turn in early.”

“Take Kobin’s bed, he can sleep with us tonight. Rest up, ok?”

******************

When Link woke, it was still dark, and his head was full of odd images again. He silently stole from his nephew’s bed and out of the house, where he sat and watched the sun come up on a hilltop. The back of his right hand itched and he absently rubbed at it, the sensation anchoring his mind as he rode out the confusion. The sky had gone from gold and pink to blue before he stood and returned to the house. The smell of coffee brewing greeted him as he entered the house again.

“Hey, Link, I didn’t hear you get up,” Taphea greeted him with a kiss on the cheek. “Coffee will be up soon.”

She paused before asking “Who’s Midna?”

He blinked. “I...I have no idea,” he started, baffled. “...why?”

“You were calling out to them in your sleep. I wasn’t sure if that’s what you came to Hateno to tell us about…?” Her voice rose. Taphea was always hoping to help plan Link’s wedding. 

Kagun emerged from the back room and interrupted. “Midna was the name of the princess from the twilight realm, in one of the stories about the hero. It’s said she traveled with him, and he sometimes took the form of a blue eyed wolf. After he saved Hyrule, she went back to the twilight realm and no one is sure what happened to him.” He met Link’s eye and grinned “Were you dreaming of princesses, little brother?”

Link furrowed his brow. He’d definitely seen a wolf in his mind, but no princesses of any sort. Was the wolf blue eyed? Maybe that would come later. Did the hero have time for things like princesses? “If that’s so, then maybe it is what I came to talk about. Let me show you something.”

He retrieved the sword in the bedroom from under his nephew’s bed, unwrapped and then laid it on the dining table in the main room of the house. His brother did a hard double take at the blue and gold scabbard and muttered, “Hylia, is this really in my house? Is that real?”

“Oh, it’s real.” Link whispered.

Kagun approached the table slowly, eyes on the sword. Taphea stood, slightly wide eyed and watched her husband a moment before calling for Kobin and shooing him out the back door. 

“Can you take it out of the scabbard?” Asks Kagun. “Only you can handle it, right?”

“I’m not actually sure about that, but no one else really wants to touch it.” He grasped the hilt, felt a thrilled prickle run up his arm, and drew the sword, laying it back to rest next to its scabbard. 

It really is a beautiful thing, thinks Link. 

The hilt is cobalt blue, it sparkles when it catches the light. There’s a deep green stripe wrapped around the hilt, crisscrossed like a ribbon. A gold filigree decorates where the handle joins the blade. The blade itself flares out in a squared diamond that serves as a place for the triforce to be embossed before the business part of the blade starts, both long sides beveled to edge. It might be made of steel, but it’s steel folded with magic; and it gives the metal something to its finish that is otherworldly. Divine. Sacred. 

Kagun takes a deep breath and slowly reaches to touch the hilt. He stops himself an inch away and chuckles. “Prickly. Oh no, little brother. That is definitely your sword.”

Link turns to his brother. “I need you to tell me whatever you can about it and those who had it before me. I think I have their memories of their time with this blade, but it’s a terrible jumble and they step on each other. I don’t know who Midna is, but I have seen a wolf in my head. And so many other things. I need some perspective.”

“And then I need to go talk to mom and dad about this.”

He rubbed the back of his right hand again.

****************

Hours later, Link has the sword across his lap; and he absently traces the triforce on the blade, not really paying attention to what he is doing. The table is covered with books and papers; and his brother is leaning forward, elbows on the table.

“You should think of it like this, Link. Every choice you have made to this point has led you here to that sword. Trials are not always battle. Fighting doesn't make you great, or brave, or at least it’s not the only thing. Being worthy isn’t just combat, do you understand what I am saying? None of them set out to be a hero, they all found the path on their own. Just like you.”

His brother had always been the smart one, it’s why he came to him first. 

“The sword doesn’t pick the wrong person, Link.” He reaches across the table to squeeze his younger brother’s shoulder and Link meets his eyes through his bangs. 

Then the front door swings open, and their father’s voice calls out “Kagun, is Link here? I saw the horse in the stable with the castle brand, did you think you were going to distract me from that all day with Kobin?”

Kagun and Link maintain eye contact a moment longer and Kagun answers, “In the common room, dad, yes, Link is here.”

The older man strode into the room, finding his two sons at the table strewn with open books and stacks of paper. Link sitting and slightly hunched over, Kagun standing with his hands on the table top. They both looked oh so slightly guilty about something. “What are you two doing? Link, did you think you would just sneak into town and we wouldn’t know?”

Link flicked his eyes to his older brother and then spoke, “No, dad, I’m sorry, but I had to talk to Kagun first about this.” He pulled the sword off his lap and set it on the table.

His father shook his head, exasperated. “You’re the soldier, Link, why does your brother need to weigh in on a sword before you visit your parents?”

“Dad,” Kagun’s voice was soft. “It’s the Master Sword. It came out of the pedestal for him.”

“Ridiculous, that’s just a story. I don’t know what you two are up to, but you’re both too old for this foolishness. Come, Link, your mother needs to see you.” The old man gave Link a stern look. There would be no further argument. Link took the sword and slid it back into the blue and gold scabbard and buckled the baldric on. His brother gave his shoulder another squeeze as he stood and followed his father out of the house.

Link had gotten his blonde hair and many of his features from his father, but his height and frame favored his mother. His father was big and loud, and towered over him. Link had been a little frightened of him as a child; he suspected a small part of him always would be. 

“Really, son, what’s with the surprise visit and you don’t stop in to see us first?” The house wasn’t far, and his father set a brisk pace. Link took big strides to keep up, suddenly conscious of his limp.

“I was coming to the house today, I really did need to discuss that sword with Kagun, you know it’s been a hobby of sorts for him. I can’t say I really paid attention to stories about the hero, even though I share a name.”

“I never understood his obsession with those stories, frankly, waste of time,” His father had always had disdain for what he considered nonsense. 

Link stopped. “Dad, you have to listen to me. I don’t think they are just stories. I pulled the sword out of the pedestal in The Temple of Time a week ago and...everything is different now.” He let his many wander back to the stream of memories for guidance, but if past wielders of the blade had this sort of discussion with family, they were silent on the topic. “I met with the queen three days ago. Twice. I’m here to bring this news myself instead of having the Hyrule royal guard at your door. This thing is real.” His tone turned to a plea. “It’s real, Dad, I don’t know what to do.”

His father said nothing, and only stopped and turned to face him. Link thought it might be easier to have this discussion with a moblin. 

“It’s real dad, I don’t know what’s coming and I don’t know if I’ll come back from it, I came to tell you myself, please listen.”

“Let’s get to your mother,” another shake of his head and the old man was off, Link trailing in his wake, marveling over how his father could still make him feel small.

A few minutes later they were at the house where Link grew up. He noted an addition to the barn in the back, and a pair of mares and their foals grazed in the paddock next to the house. His father opened the door and called “Toshia, come here, we have a visitor,” He motioned Link into the entryway. 

The decor hadn’t changed since he’d left home. Maybe there was a new rug in the entryway. He caught his mother’s eyes as she came in from the kitchen. “Hi, mom.”

“OH!” She closed the distance quickly and swept him into a hug. “It’s so good to see you, it’s been too long, Link, are you finally done being a soldier? Are you coming home?”

Nothing about this was going to be easy, was it?

“No, mom. I’m only here a day or two, I need to tell you something.”

*******************

Later that night, he was back at his brother’s house, sitting on the front porch with Kagun in silence. He had skipped dinner, but did take a cup of wine Taphea had offered. It sat next to him, untouched. 

It had not gone well. Where his father still seemed to think this was some prank, his mother went to the other extreme and appeared ready to mourn him, once she’d grasped what he was telling her. It ended with his father abruptly and loudly telling him to leave, he’d done enough. And to not come back until he was done with this nonsense. 

Don’t come back. 

“Maybe they shouldn’t have named me Link,” he finally said, frustrated. He could hear his father’s voice in his head.  _ Don’t come back. _

“It was a popular name in the years around your birth. There was a Princess Zelda in the castle, who doesn’t want to have a hero in the family? Don’t you remember; there was an older kid in Hateno named Link, too.”

“I know, there was always another Link at the military school,” he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “Everyone likes the idea of a ‘chosen hero’, no one likes the reality.”

“What’s the reality?”

“Everything changes and you can’t go back,”

“Give them more time. They love you.”

Link whispered. “He told me to not come back.”

Home was supposed to be a soft place to fall, it had been before, even though his father was so unrelenting. Link didn’t understand why it wasn’t now, when he needed it so much. Emotion he could not name brimmed in him, and threatened to leak out his eyes. “I’m riding to Lurelin in the morning. Thank you, Kagun, for the history lessons and letting me stay.”

Kagun slung his arm across his shoulder and squeezed. “I love you, Link. It will be okay. The sword doesn’t pick wrong. Whatever is before you, you can do it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Family is so tough, people of the Internet. They can say they love you, and maybe they do, but maybe they don’t love you in the way that you need or want. Maybe they don’t know how to, maybe they don’t care to know how to.
> 
> Family is tough and sometime you just have to say they are doing their very best, even when what they are doing hurts. 
> 
> It doesn’t mean you need to stick around though.


	4. Roads and Tracks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Travel day and time to sort your garbage

Ten days after drawing a legendary sword from a stone at the Temple of Time, he was riding out from Hateno and heading south toward the fishing village of Lurelin. He had good memories of the place and maybe that was where he could make sense of everything and move on. The white water in the back of his head continued to calm; and he felt he could navigate it better, though things still came up from its depths from time to time. At least it was just memories, not other personalities sharing his mind. Memories centered on the sword; from the time it was picked up, until the hero placed it back in its pedestal.

Except not all of them had been able to put it back. 

He could not remember ever hearing a story about a hero who had fallen and not gotten back up. His brother had said something about a fallen hero, but didn’t have details. It seemed to happen sometimes, and some other soul placed the blade back where it waited for the next chosen one to arrive. 

He pondered these fallen. Why were there no stories about them? Did someone else get the sword after that and use it for its intended purpose? Did the sword just swap its loyalties when its chosen died? 

Was the sword a tool, or did it have its own ambitions? He thought he heard a hum from the blade, as though it was gently reminding him it was there.

What about those who survived? What happened to them after they put the sword back? Did they just go back to where they came from? How could they? He found it hard to stay in Hateno for more than four days and he had only been a soldier before. 

What would happen to him, when this was over? Would he put the sword back in the Temple of Time?

So many questions. He clucked Sam to a gallop. 

*****************

He is up early the next morning, feeling a little creaky after sleeping on the ground. He definitely preferred a bed as he got older. His mind wandered back to Hateno as he nursed a cup of tea in front of his fire. Maybe he’d get a late start and take his time today. He sighed and his eyes caught on the blue and gold scabbard. 

He still liked to go through fighting forms with live steel a couple times a week. He probably wasn’t as polished as he had been, but he liked to keep his skills up. And he had not had time to swing this new blade since acquiring it. He should get to know this new partner. 

Finished with breakfast, he picked up the sword and found a bit of level ground to work on. Stretching a bit to loosen up; he gave the Master Sword a big, flowing swing to get a feel for it. It surprised him how well balanced it felt. It’s perfect, actually. Like it had been forged just for him. It feels like a very old friend. He worked through his forms, losing himself in the motion, the world shrinking to just him and the blade. Working up a sweat, he finally took a break; flipping the point of the blade upward and catching his reflection on the steel. He looked into his own eyes and pondered his current circumstance. _Who are you, now? Who are you becoming?_

It was the motion on the periphery of his vision that broke his reverie. Sam threw his head up, eyes rolling. He startled upward, trying to bolt; but was thwarted by the hobbles he still wore. Nostrils flared, Sam gave a deep snort of fear.

And then Link heard it. He must have been deep in his own head to have not noted it crashing through the woods before. Moblins are a lot of things, but they are not stealthy. He turned his head to take the creature in, while trying to decide if it was worth taking it on versus just letting it take the horse, but he still had to pack up camp and he had a long journey in front of him and it was going to be much slower going without that horse and _wait_ was it _silver?_

He’d never seen a silver moblin before. Didn’t know anyone who had! He’d assumed they were just made up to keep children out of the woods. But he’d never seen one that was white with purple-black stripes. They were supposed to be a magnitude tougher than the _black_ ones, for Hylia’s sake; and here it was, hunting his horse in front of him. 

He suddenly decided he needed that horse. He yelled to draw its attention away.

“HYAH!”

The beast stopped in its tracks, swinging its big stupid head back and forth, trying to find the source of the sound. Link yelled again and it turns to him with a roar that shakes the trees. It's carrying a big dragon bone club. Link has never been sure if these clubs are actual dragon bone- that’s another creature he’s never seen and thought mythical-but they definitely have _some_ sort of bone on the business end. And they can certainly kill a horse in a single blow.

The moblin stomps toward him and Link realizes he is only armed with the sword. No shield. Just 26 years of experience and the blade of evil’s bane. He dropped into a ready stance, focused on the moblin’s eyes and took a deep breath. From here, he is relying on reflex and muscle memory. 

The moblin stands before him, throws its arms back, and roars before swinging that big black club. Link steps back and hears the club cut the air before him, but it doesn’t touch him. Moblins have too much follow through on their swings and he takes advantage, swinging the sword at the creature’s weapon arm. It connects, blade biting deep, and the sensation is like nothing Link has felt before. There’s a _thrum_ through his arm, as though the sword has woken up for battle. He has thought of sword play like a dance before, but he’s never had a partner like this. He pulls the blade free, moblin screaming in pain, and it turns to face him again. 

This time, he’s a little too close when the swing comes. He throws himself backwards, waiting for the club to connect; but somehow has managed to flip, with the club passing under him. Time seems to slow; when his feet hit the ground he rushes his opening and ends the silver moblin in a furious collection of blows. 

He stands over the creature’s body, panting; hands on his thighs, sword still thrumming in his right hand, and not sure of exactly what just happened. The back of his sword hand erupts in fire, maybe he had been injured after all and adrenaline covered it. He drops the sword to examine his wound; and what he finds is the symbol of the triforce glowing under his skin, that bottom right triangle standing out. He grasps his right wrist and drops to a squat, staring at the back of his hand in wonder peppered with fear. _What did it mean, was he still himself? What does it mean?_

************

It’s later. He is unsure how much later, but later than he wanted to break camp. Sam had gotten surprisingly far away in his hobbles and was shaking and sweaty when Link located him. He spoke in low, soothing tones as he approached; bridle in hand. He placed a hand on Sam’s withers and gave a deep rub with his knuckles. When the horse turned his head to him, he leaned forward to blow a breath into its nostril, greeting the gelding as Sam greeted other horses. Slowly, quietly he slipped the reins over Sam’s head and the bridle over his ears, bit in his mouth. Keeping a hand on the rein Link slowly ran his hand down the horse’s left foreleg and unbuckled the hobbles and they walked back to camp. Like all castle horses, Sam knows how to ground tie; so Link drops the reins to the ground while breaking camp. It’s time to be back on the road. 

It was after noon when he finally put his foot in the stirrup and swung aboard his mount. The morning had been rough on them both; so he didn’t push for more than a good, ground covering walk. He needed some time to think over the past day. Had it only been a day?

He reviewed the combat with the moblin. That had been some very fine fighting. He had felled a silver moblin without a scratch to show for it. He didn’t know of anyone else who could say that. He smiled to himself at the thought and immediately wished his father could have seen it, because maybe he’d see the man Link was instead of the kid he had been….

_Oh_.

Oh, wait. 

_Don’t come back._

He sat up in the saddle and closed his fingers, bringing the horse to a halt. Link carefully turned his thoughts over. How did his father see him? Was he always going to be the one who left home as soon as he could? He had only been home to nurse a fractured leg and to carry on about a magic sword, could he ever be seen for what else he was?

What else was he?

This line of thinking seemed both fragile and dangerously sharp, a glass sphere made of shards. He was not sure he was ready to cut himself on it. Better to think about what laid ahead. Lurelin. And Celia. He clucked to the horse to move off again.

Lurelin is a quiet fishing village, set on a sandy shoal. It’s easily one of the most beautiful places in Hyrule, making it a popular destination for those with the means to take an extended holiday. The kingdom keeps a small barrack there, to keep an eye. It’s a plum assignment, and Link had been fortunate to land it after the accident with the moblins. It had been three wonderful years, enjoying the sunshine and the warm, as well as the slower pace. 

The water is crystal clear, showing off its reefs and fish even from the surface. It was easy to fall in love with the place. He’d met Celia the first week he’d been on assignment and he’d felt sparks immediately. Lurelin was a pleasant place to spend time with someone, it was easy to forget there was anything outside its bubble. 

But those sparks… She accepted his invitation to take a walk on the beach late one afternoon. He could not remember what they talked about as they slowly wandered the shoreline, as he was lost in how the light looked on her long, auburn hair and how her green eyes sparkled when she smiled. At some point she slipped her hand into his and his heart fluttered. The start of things was always amazing, he thought; and this one in particular was wonderful.

They ended up sitting in the sand above the tide line; watching the sun slowly set, fingers still entwined and inching closer to each other until her right hip was against his left. She’d leaned into him; and he dropped her hand to stretch his arm across her back, resting his hand at her waist and time stopped for just a minute. He turned to face her and she was looking up at him. Her eyes were so green and the water crashed onto the beach below them; and then his mouth was on hers, she tasted like mangoes. Her hands ended up in his hair and she pushed him back onto the sand without breaking the kiss. He could still hear the waves roll, and gulls call as the sky slowly darkened around them, no one else in the world. 

He had made it back to his barracks right before curfew. It had just been kissing that evening, mostly. Mostly. He’d felt maybe more undone than he appeared; heart thumping, sand in his hair, the taste of her in his mouth. He didn’t sleep well that night. It was a good sort of not sleeping. 

He still got a flutter when he recalled that evening on the beach. There had been so much to love about Lurelin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s probably obvious I like horses. When I was riding, the thing I liked to do was called eventing or combined training. It’s a three day competition originally used to select mounts for cavalry. The middle day is endurance and it’s all galloping and jumping. The sport has changed to where endurance day isn’t as endurance-y. 
> 
> There used to be 4 parts to endurance day. Phase A and C were called roads and tracks and they were meant to be ridden at a slower pace, allowing you to warm up or cool out a little, in preparation for the more intense parts of the day.


	5. Time Passes, People Move

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes the people you have left behind are ok with that

Two weeks after claiming a sword said to be crafted by Hylia herself, and just before sunset, he arrived in Lurelin. He passed Sam to the stable master before checking into the barrack for a bed for the night. His comrades welcomed him, though maybe not as warmly as they might have if he hadn't been packing the sword. Their words were for him, but they kept flicking eyes to that cobalt blue hilt with the odd crossguard and he knew no one would be staying up socializing with him. He turned in early, frustrated, and thought back to when he’d been stationed there.

Not much happened in Lurelin that needed the military; at the end of his three years, he’d been ready when it was suggested that maybe he’d be a good instructor back at the academy. He’d seen his share of what went for action these days, he’d been skilled with a blade when he was younger and he was analytical enough to teach. It seemed ideal. He had no regrets until recently. He remembered excitedly telling Celia the news. 

She hadn’t seemed as excited as he was. “That means you’re going back to the castle, then? What happens to us?”

“Well, yes, the academy is at the castle, so that is where I would be.”

She said nothing, but took her hands from his.

“Uh,” he started. “Lots of knights have girlfriends or families in Castletown. If you wanted to come?”

“Are you proposing we start a family, then?”

And oh, no, he was not ready for anything like _that_. The discussion deteriorated until she was in tears and he was holding her, feeling confused. When had she decided she wanted to have a family? They’d never had that discussion, it wasn’t one he typically had. He was military and he’d be moving on, and his partners seemed to accept that. They decided to discuss it later, but never really did. Once he had settled back at Castletown, they had exchanged letters, but the time between them slowly grew longer. They stopped shortly after he’d met that reference librarian, actually. No worries, though, he often lost track of people.

He still thought back fondly to his time in Lurelin, and the girl with the long auburn hair he’d spent it with. He hoped she felt the same, and imagined embracing her tomorrow and sweeping her off her feet. He fell asleep thinking about how nice it would be to go for a walk with her on the beach at sunset tomorrow.

************************  
Celia had run a general store when he’d been stationed in Lurelin, and a little gentle poking about said she still did. 

Though.

The stable master was the same man who’d been managing the horses when Link had been stationed in Lurelin. When Link had asked about who was running the store, the answer he’d gotten seemed odd. 

“Didn’t you used to go with that girl or something? Maybe you should shop somewhere else.”

He hadn’t pressed the issue. But he did wonder what that meant. 

It was midafternoon by the time he wandered to her store. He paused outside its door, a little flush of anxiety giving his heart rate a bump. What was that about? He knew her, she knew him. They had been very close, right? He pushed the door open and stepped inside. She was behind the counter, back to him. He felt a flutter of pleasure at seeing her and called to her. “Celia!”

She turned her head at the sound of her name. “ _Link?_ ”

And then she turned to face him and he smiled at her, warm and happy to see her. He took her in for a moment, her auburn hair cut shorter than he remembered, her eyes still so, so green, and it seemed him that she was _awfully_ pregnant...and was that a gold band on her left hand? It _was_ , wasn’t it? 

There was just a moment where things seemed to stop, and he put this information together and realized that the time for him to seriously court that girl in the fishing village on the beach was gone. The smile froze on his face. 

_Maybe you should shop somewhere else._ Oh goddesses.

“Ah, hi,” _oh oh this was a mistake._

“Hello,” her tone was neutral and she met his eyes. “What are you doing here, Link?”

“Uh, I was, um, passing through, and I ahhh thought I’d come see you.” He could feel sweat on the back of his neck.

“You thought you’d come see me.” She sounded mildly amused. Yes. Amused. “Why? _Why_ are you here?” Oh no, not amused _at all._

He was out of words for this. It would be ok if the ground opened under him and took him whole, but that was probably too much to hope for. 

The silence grew uncomfortably long. She finally broke it. 

“Did you really think you’d just show up and, I don’t know, bed me and what?” Her voice rose, a little angry. “I haven’t heard from you in years, Link. Did you think I’d just wait for you? Am I to think you have been chaste since you left?”

He felt the flush to the tips of his ears, thinking of that librarian at the castle. 

She laughed, “Yeah, I didn’t think so. You weren’t ever really serious, Link. That’s fine. We had fun. But it’s long over.” She rested a hand on her belly. “Long over. And you should go.”

****************  
He’d taken a walk down the beach after that, eventually stopping to pull off his boots and walk barefoot on the sand just below the tide line. After a while he stopped and looked out across the water, letting his thoughts float on the ambient sounds of seagulls and terns calling overhead, waves rolling up to the shore. He felt bruised by the encounter. Replaced. Maybe a little quickly, too, had she moved on immediately? He was so confused by the swirl of emotion he was feeling. He thought about the librarian again, she hadn’t even given him a chance to say anything, gone as soon as she’d heard what had gone on at the Temple of Time. He dropped to the sand and laid on his back, hands over his eyes. When had everything turned into such a disaster? 

Had he loved Celia? Really? He wasn’t sure. He’d thought he had. As much, maybe, as anyone else in his life, though not enough to want to be moored in place. What if he had been fine with being moored? He picked at this idea, finding tender spots, and places where it would bleed.

The sun began to sink in the sky, and he decided this sunset was better viewed from the porch on the barracks and walked back. He found a chair, unbuckled the baldric and took the sword off his back so he could lean back and look out across the water, still turning over the encounter with Celia. _Such a disaster._

He should have told the castle no when they asked him back. He could have stayed here and Celia’s children could have been his, too. He had no idea why being a husband and father sounded so desirable right now, but it seemed like something he suddenly wanted. He couldn’t remember why going back to the castle then had been the more interesting option. If he’d just stayed, he mused, he would have never been in the Temple of Time and some other soul could be dealing with the fate of Hyrule right now. Maybe someone without his mess of a personal life. 

_The flow of time is always cruel…_

He furrowed his brow at that. He had no idea what the context was or whose life that came from, but he did not appreciate the commentary.

“I heard you were back in town. Link, you always liked a stout, if I recall.” A tankard full of a dark liquid appeared at the table next to him and Mikal settled into a chair on the other side. “You also look like you could use a friend about now.”

Link smiled a little and took the tankard. “Thanks, Mik, I could use both.”

Mikal was the quartermaster at Lurelin and one of the first people he had met when he had first arrived. The two had been fast friends. Link reflected, a little darkly, that Mikal didn’t seem to care that they had not spoken in years. 

The two men sat in silence, watching the sun slide into the water, turning it red. “Rupee for your thoughts, Link.”

He sighed and closed his eyes, and when he started to talk, everything spilled out.

“It’s such a mess, Mik. Everything is a _disaster_. I was exactly where I wanted to be. I knew where I was going. And now,” he closed his eyes and exhaled. “Now. Everything is flipped upside down. All I did was put my hand on that.” He gestured to the sword. “I don’t know what’s coming and I can’t say no. I’m just. I am too old for this. Why is this happening?”

“And then there are things that I’d never expected to change with it. Everyone looks at me differently, it’s like overnight I have become a person no one knows. I was stationed here for four years; and I knew some of these guys pretty well; but no one will speak to me if they don’t have to, except you. You remember Celia, right? I have no idea what I was thinking hoping she’d still be available, I guess I was hoping for a confidant. I don’t know. My mother can hardly look at me without weeping. My father.” He stopped. “My father...told me I wasn’t welcome back.” His voice threatened to break and he stopped abruptly, collecting himself before moving on. “I have to be tough and frankly, I’m terrified I might end up being flayed alive by some monster. I have _no_ idea what’s going to be expected of me. I have no one I can turn to for advice about this.

“If I am an incarnation of the very idea of courage; I really don’t feel very brave, so why am I even here?” He dropped his head to his hands. _Disaster_.

“It’s not courage if you’re already brave.” Mikal’s tones were soft, soothing. 

“What?” He looked up from his hands. 

“If you’re already brave about something, you don’t need courage. Courage is what keeps you moving forward when you’re not feeling brave. It’s hope and faith in yourself, even if you have doubts. Especially if you have doubts.” Mikal shifted in his chair a little and took a sip of his beer. “I have known you for a long time. I have always thought you were courageous. If you don’t see it, others do.” He gestured to the sword in its sheath at Link’s side. “Even others you don’t know are watching, it seems.”

Link took the beer stein in two hands and stared into the depths of the stout. 

“It’s ok to be scared, Link. You just don’t let it stop you. Courage means you move forward anyway.” Mikal finished his beer and stood up. He raised the empty tankard in a salute and met Link’s eyes. “Move forward.” He lowered the tankard and turned to leave. Link watched him go.

He sat, alone in the dark, holding his beer, listening to the waves roll in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Always surprising when others move on, isn’t it? Nothing is static, it’s all always in motion.


	6. Cutscene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe you don’t feel ready...and maybe it doesn’t matter, you just need to go do it.

Three weeks after putting his hand on the hilt of a sword that had been swung by men who still had stories told about them, he jogged the bay gelding off the beaches of Lurelin and allowed the horse to pick the direction. He’d need to go back to the castle soon, and he’d seen those who he needed to see. He needed a few days for himself to sort things out. **_Soon_** , whispered the sword at the back of his mind. It had been patient, but that was coming to an end.

He supposed he had wanted to tie up loose ends at the start of this sabbatical, or whatever it was. He thought maybe he had made more messes, instead. He wasn't sure what he’d expected out of his parents, but he had not expected to be told to leave. He felt foolish about Celia and just wished things had ended differently. Maybe he shouldn’t have gone back. He shook his head, it had been _stupid_ to think she’d just waited on him.

Maybe he was just avoiding what was before him. He didn’t think of himself as one to shirk his duties, so this idea did not sit well. The sword wouldn’t go for stupid and lazy, right? Did it always make the right choice?

What, exactly, was before him? He knew he had limits that hadn’t existed in his mind at sixteen. At sixteen everything was still possible. At fourty-two, he knew it wasn’t. He shifted uneasily in his saddle. His horse flicked an ear back. He disliked the idea of losing control of himself, especially for an unknown that might be impossible. What if he failed?

What if he failed?

Was he smart enough, was he _enough_ for whatever was coming?

His brother had run over the histories of some of the heros before they were heros. He supposed they hadn’t been particularly remarkable before, but maybe that wasn’t true. How had others seen them? The Hero of Twilight, or Time...how had those kids seen themselves? Did they know they could have failed?

He gave Sam his head. The bay horse stretched his neck forward and down; and moved off at an easy, ground covering walk; snatching a mouthful of long grass at the side of the road and chewing it as they ambled along. Keeping an eye on the road, Link allowed the motion of the horse to let his mind wander. 

Was it always young people because they hadn’t built an identity yet and were looking for one? He imagined that if the sword had slid from its pedestal for him when he was 16, he would not be having this crisis. It would have just been something to go and do. Less at stake personally. Less experience to know where your limits are. No negative _but what if._ No fear. What was there to be afraid of when you’re 16 and the world is still in front of you? 

What was there to be afraid of? He closed his hands on his reins, bringing the gelding to a halt and furrowed his brow. Introspection had never been his strength, and there had been too much of it the past few weeks. He didn’t like to look too closely at things he felt, he was much better at doing. _What was there to be afraid of?_

He’d liked what he’d been before. He enjoyed taking the kids to the great plateau and camping under the stars. He liked his postings throughout Hyrule, he’d gotten to see so much of his country that he wouldn’t have if he’d stayed home and bred horses with his family. There were people he’d met that he was glad to have known, even if he felt badly about how some of those relationships ended. He’d been a leaf afloat on a creek, going where the water took him, and that had been just fine. And now he was supposed to be something so much more.

The future was unknown, in ways he had never expected, and that was scary. 

The flow of time, cruel indeed. He wished he could ask the others who’d handled the sword these questions, but they seemed to be silent on the topic. It would be nice to talk to anyone who had been down this path before. He nudged his heels into the bay gelding’s sides and picked up a trot; mind half on the road and half turning over the obligation before him, trying to find a way to fit into it.

****************

A month after taking hold of the hilt of the Master Sword and feeling the goddess smile on him (he hoped), he was back on the little bay gelding and heading north to Central Hyrule and eventually Castletown. He didn’t push the horse this time, content to keep the speed to a trot. The white water in his head had slowed. It offered occasional turbulence, but no longer seemed dangerous. The memories of those before him were still there, but no longer demanding he pay attention. He took his time; knowing that once he was back, his life was no longer his alone and he wanted to save those last moments.

The castle loomed on the horizon. He’d be sleeping in a bed tonight for certain. As he closed the distance, a rider on a dappled grey galloped out of the main gate and headed toward him. Link closed his hands on his reins, bringing Sam to a stop and waited. The rider on the grey slid his horse to a stop. His uniform said he was a captain of the royal guard.

“Are you Link, bearer of the Master Sword?”

Link nodded and held his horse as it fidgeted under him. The sword on his back sent a vibration through his spine. **_Soon. So soon._** He could feel the back of his right hand tingle.

“You need to get to the castle right away. There is something strange happening in Faron and the queen has asked for you to investigate. She will debrief you on the details herself. Follow me.” He wheeled the grey on its haunches and galloped back toward the castle.Sam stirred to follow, but Link held him in place one more moment. 

It always starts with something strange, thought Link. And why is it often Faron? He watched the grey horse gallop back toward the castle, feeling as though a chapter in his life was about to end. Maybe an entire book. 

It was finally time. He took a deep breath and kicked the bay gelding into a gallop toward the castle.

**********  
She is waiting for him in her office again, and if she is flustered by whatever is going on, he cannot tell. What had been a flutter on their first meeting seems much more forward now. Whatever the sword has recognized in him sees her for who she is. If the story is true, she is a physical manifestation of the goddess Hylia. Link has never considered himself particularly religious and decides to not examine this too closely yet. The back of his right hand throbs in her presence, and he cannot help but rub at it.

She is seated and has her hands folded in front of her. Her eyes catch him nursing his right hand and she meets his eyes and turns her right hand so he can see that she also wears a Triforce, though it’s the lower left triangle that is prominent on hers. “When?” She asks. “What were the circumstances?”

He takes the chair in front of her desk and stretches his right hand toward hers, noting that the mark intensified as they get closer. “Three weeks ago, I think. I had to kill a silver moblin and I used the Master Sword.”

She reaches across and puts her palm against his. Link feels a jolt at the contact. For a moment, the mark glows too brightly to look at, but he thinks the base of the Triforce is complete for bit. He pulls his hand back, not sure what has just happened. 

“Well, then, Hero, I hope you got whatever you needed to do accomplished. Are you ready?” 

He wasn’t ready to be called _hero_. He wasn’t sure he was ready for whatever she was about to say. He wasn’t sure he would ever be truly ready, but he was out of preparation time. What he said was “Yes, your majesty.” It sounded like he meant it.

She considered him a moment. “I think we can drop the titles in private, Link. Please just call me Zelda. I think it will make things easier.”

“If it pleases you, your...Zelda.” _First name basis with the queen, goddesses above._ “What has you calling me back?”

It hadn’t been anything specific, he thought. Rumors and mystery about something deep in the jungles of Faron. Monsters like his silver moblin tumbling about a ruin rotting deep in the region. Perhaps there was some artifact inside that held a clue? He was being tasked to find out. He was at least not going out unprepared. She’d gifted him with a shield; a huge thing he could hide behind easily, and beautiful as well. Enameled in royal blue, with a Triforce and the wingcrest of Hyrule in red. He knew the windcrest was a bird called a loftwing, and the one on this shield was red because there was a Link in the distant past who’d loved a red one like a favorite horse. No, not red...crimson. This shield was made for him, to call back to his metaphorical forefathers. 

She’d given him chainmail, too, and three bottles of a red potion she said would instantly cure terrible injuries. And something she’d called the hero’s clothes. A white, high collared, long sleeved undershirt, a green tunic and a pair of tan pants. Boots. And the hat.

“Permission to speak freely?” He interrupted her history lesson on the garment, holding the hat up and quite sure he was being pranked.

“Yes?”

“This? I really need to wear this?”

She seemed slightly taken aback, but it was a fraction of a second. “It’s tradition.”

“I will lose this. This will not stay on my head. I would understand a helm. This is a stupid hat.”

“This is what the Hero of Hyrule has worn for millennia.” She sounds a little stiff. And insistent. “You should wear it, too.”

“Is it a _magic_ hat?”

They argue a bit and in the end he agrees to take it but is vague about actually wearing it. He did not get the hat. 

Two days later, he is on a fresh horse, this one a chestnut mare that is supposed to be fleet of foot; and he is back out the castle gates, heading to the southwest to Faron. The ride is uneventful, and in three days he hands the horse off to the stablemaster at the Faron barracks because from there he is on foot. 

It’s late in the afternoon when he finds it, a low grey stone rising from the jungle floor, seemingly a single room behind an imposing double door. Most of it must be underground. He feels a chill despite the heat as he contemplates that door, the fate drawing the sword staring him in the face. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks if you have read this far.
> 
> I originally planned on end with Link riding to the castle. I had gotten the things I needed to express out. However, since sharing this, I’ve had other ideas and I’m not sure how they gel just yet, so I’m going to leave this open and see where it goes, rather than try and make a sequel out of it. I keep thinking about a forest temple.
> 
> This started out as a story I told myself while trying to get to sleep. I finally started writing it down, and I pushed it around for months. Eventually, I got over myself to publish it, and I’m happy I did.


	7. Into the Forest Temple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You never forget your first dungeon.

It’s humid in Faron. And hot. The air is thick and still, full of the drone of insects. He can feel sweat trickle down the back of his neck. He wore the hat; and his scalp feels like a hot, sticky mess under it. His tunic is damp through his chainmail and he is pretty sure he can smell himself. The entrance to the Temple is before him, covered in creepers and vines, crumbling stone encased in moss. He places his palm on the door and gives it a tentative push. To his surprise, the door moves a little. It takes a little muscle; but he opens it fairly easily, revealing a set of damp stone stairs vanishing into the darkness. 

He stares down their length. There might be a flicker of light at the bottom, who’s minding torches in this abandoned place? 

It seems so dangerous. He wished he were not so alone. 

**_You’re not alone, master._ **

He turns his head to catch the hilt of the sword over his right shoulder. The hilt is damp, but it still sparkles to him. His partnership with this blade was not ever his intention; but they are together now, and he has to trust that it has chosen well. He looks back at the depths and starts down the steps. Slowly. The steps are slick with moss. The journey has woken the healed fracture on his left leg and reminds him to take care. 

The Hero of Hyrule was never meant to be lame and middle aged, he thinks, steadying himself on the wall, yet here we are. 

Several hours later, he’s found himself a map, and a strangely shaped key. Most of the things to fear in here have simply been born of his imagination and flickering light though he hopes he  _ never _ lays eyes on a spider that big again. He had to flip it over with a lucky swing of his sword before revealing the spot on its body that he could strike to kill it. Awful. He decides that it’s probably time to stop and rest. He manages enough sort of dry wood for a small, if smoky, fire. He sits and leans against a wall, feeling sweaty and sticky and genuinely worn.  _ Old _ . 

He is drowsy in front of the fire; and his mind quietly wanders to a time before the sword, when he was stationed out in Lurelin and spending a day of leave in Celia’s bed. The day had been rainy, hadn’t it? He remembered hearing rain on the roof and thinking how warm and comfortable and safe it was being spooned up next to her, both of them naked and spent. He snuggled into her hair a little, and she’d murmured something he didn’t quite catch. When she turned in his arms to face him, it wasn’t her at all; it was a corpse in a wooden mask. It let out a shriek, reaching for him.

And he is awake with a violent gasp; heart hammering, eyes wide and somewhere in his head is the word  _ redead _ but he has never heard of that before and he hopes that isn’t something real; but knows it is, somewhere. He stokes the fire to settle himself, realizing he is in for a very long night. If things were only going to get as bad as spiders, that would be ok; but at least one of the young men who handled this sword before him knew about something called a  _ redead. _

He needs a distraction. He reaches into his pack and removes the key he found. It’s as long as his hand, with a black metal shaft and an ornate carved jade head. There’s a pair of red tassels on the head as well, he thinks they might be silk. It must open a special place, hopefully the place where whatever he is looking for in here is hiding. He turns the key over in his hands, watching the firelight play over its surface, keeping the redeads at bay for now.

It’s impossible to tell how time passes in the Forest Temple. There is no daylight, only torches in wall sconces. He has not seen who might be tending them yet. He spends hours exploring the rooms marked on the map, looking for  _ something _ and he hopes he will know it when he sees it. There are spiders of various sizes, even really big ones, but he’s figured out how to dispatch them and they quickly become an annoyance. Carnivorous Deku baba of several types sometimes block his path, but these he has known how to deal with since he was young. He’d even recently taken a group of young soldiers out to teach them how to beat them down while avoiding a bite. These are not challenges, really, and once he’s figured this out he concentrates on staying out of his head while working through the warren of rooms.

There’s a little alcove-it’s not really a room-where he finds a metal chest guarded, more or less, by a trio of Deku. He rolls his eyes at them as they hiss and snap, and takes them down with a single swing of the sword. They key doesn’t go to this box, though, it’s just open. Inside is a flattened, curved piece of wood. There are blue and red markings along its length, but he doesn’t recognize if the symbols are writing or just decorative. He turns it over, wondering what he’s found that someone felt the need to hide like this. 

_ Boomerang, that’s a boomerang _ . His head his filled with images over how useful this thing can be. Once thrown, it will come back. It’s a weapon, stunning creatures in their tracks. Past heroes seem to have used them to do other tricks as well. He takes it with him and continues on.

******************

He has no idea how long he has been traveling the damp passages of this forgotten temple in Faron, when he finally finds his way to the room at the heart of his map. This room is blocked by door, but so were others. There’s a spider carved into the stone; or maybe it’s something else, he only counts six legs. Perhaps two have worn away somehow. This is the last place for him to explore, if he hasn’t found whatever he is looking for (surely it’s not the boomerang) he’ll need to consider retracing his steps. He hopes he won’t have to, he is weary of his own company in the flickering torchlight of the stone halls. 

When he pushes on this door, it doesn’t budge. There’s an ornate lock in the center; copper that has turned to verdigris, details picked out in jade and some milky red stone. He pulls the key out of his pack and holds it up, matching the carved jade of the key to the lock. Clearly a pair. He wonders what’s behind the door and decides to find out, slipping the key into the lock and turning it. He can feel the tumblers inside turn; and the door swings open, revealing a large empty room with a high ceiling. 

Empty. Anticlimactic. He steps through the door.

As soon as he is across the threshold, narrowly spaced bars slam down behind him. He turns in surprise, realizing he is trapped, and the ground rumbles beneath him. This cannot be good. He scrambles for the shield and grabs the hilt of the sword and  _ it’s ready _ , it’s more ready than he is. 

He has no idea what has tumbled from a hole high in the wall of this chamber, but it’s huge, bigger than a horse, bigger than a moblin. He has never seen a living thing so large. He could probably stand up underneath it. It’s vaguely spider like with a red and blue striped body, a half dozen black legs, and a single giant eye on what he assumes is the head. Also, great black fangs dripping with...  _ something _ . The beast focuses on him and emits a screech and in the back of his mind a chorus erupts  _ aim for that eye _ . _ Strike that. _

Those fangs are right under that eye, and whatever is coating them sizzles and smokes when it drips to the floor. He wonders if the tunic and the chainmail would hold up better. His heart rate climbs as he faces the creature, trying to decide what to do...and then the thing leaps into the air. Link bolts across the room, hoisting the shield overhead as he runs under it. He can hear the drool off the fangs hiss as it hits the shield. 

He reaches the opposite wall and spins around. He feels a quick spike of pain in his left leg, but then it’s gone. The whatever it is also faces the wall and is slowly turning to face him again. He realizes that there’s an opening there, if he is fast enough ( _ can you be fast enough? _ ), but he has missed it. He wonders if he can convince the beast to jump again. Sword and shield ready, he yells for its attention and gets ready to sprint. It spots him and leaps across the room at him again, and again he runs beneath it, stopping shorter this time, spinning and sprinting back to strike at that eyeball, and when he is nearly in position, his left leg has had enough and it slips when he puts weight on it. He falls forward, sword and shield clattering to the ground, great black fangs at the edge of his peripheral vision and moving closer. Panicked, he tries to roll out of the way and instead gets a splash of the creature’s drool on his left arm and it’s like fire gone right to the bone. He grunts and scrambles underneath the beast, leaving his weapon and defense behind, just trying to get out immediate danger.

_ now what now what oh Hylia now what  _

_ You have a boomerang and a red potion _

Right. 

The beast is searching for him, but apparently the only safe place in the room is directly beneath it. He blindly fumbles in his pack with his good arm and pulls out a bottle full of red liquid. Keeping his attention on the spider, he manages to pull the stopper on the bottle and downs the potion in a single draw. Immediately the fire goes from his arm and his leg feels better–not restored to its pre fracture days–but the wear he’s given it dungeon crawling is gone. He crawls out from under the creature and when it slowly turns to reorient on him he quickly aims and flings the boomerang, marveling that he can do it at all before realizing it’s not his muscle memory behind the throw. The weapon flies true and strikes the huge eye before coming back to him. He catches it easily. The beast squeals and shudders to a halt and he has enough time to bolt across the room and scoop up the sword and shield. The roar behind him lets him know that the monster has turned its attention back to him, and he is ready to go. He turns to face it and it leaps; he runs under it, shield up. Once he is past it he turns and throws the boomerang again, striking his target; and this time when it goes down, he switches to the sword and slashes at the eye before it’s back up. He feints to the side, leading the creature into another clumsy turn before stunning it with the boomerang again. 

It feels like he repeats this series of steps for an hour before it finally stops getting up again. 

Once he realizes it’s done, he falls to his knees, fatigue overtaking adrenaline. He is exhausted, and he is still trapped in this room, and he still has not found anything that might prove useful. He just wants to have a good meal and sleep in a bed for maybe a week, and just celebrate what he has survived. He puts his face in his hands with a shaky breath so he doesn’t see where the wooden box comes from, though from the sound it makes hitting the floor and breaking, it was probably close to the ceiling. He whips his head around to face it, and it seems to be just a box. There’s a crack in one end from the impact and he can see there is something glowing inside. He forces himself to his feet to look.

There are two things inside the box. One looks like a heart shaped red crystal, encased in delicate gold filigree. When he touches it, it turns into a glowing silver light that travels up his arm; and he is no longer tired. He might be stronger than when he entered the temple in the first place. The triforce on his right hand glows as well, briefly. He is not sure if he is becoming something else or maybe he is just starting to see what he already is. 

The other object is a seemingly unassuming purple stone pendant without a chain. He takes care to wrap this up and place it in his pack, along with the empty bottle. 

It’s then that he hears stone sliding, and a previously hidden passage opens at the back of the room; there’s a staircase rising up and he can hear bird calls. When he gets to the top, he is outside the temple and it seems like it’s still late afternoon. He sits down on the ground, back against the entrance to the temple and lets his mind drift. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People of the Internet, this is how my first divine beast went down. Before I picked up BOTW, I played a lot of arcade type games. You know, things that never truly end, and you can’t beat, you just push for a score. I was vaguely aware of a concept of a boss battle but I’d never really experienced one. And I worked through the puzzles of Vah Ruta, and then happily went to the terminal and went to activate it. And the game asked me if I was sure I wanted to do that.
> 
> I was momentarily confused. This game had been pushing me to free the divine beasts for a while at this point, and it had taken me a long time to get this far (sneaking around that lynel has definitely shortened my lifespan by at least a day) and now its asking if I’m sure?
> 
> I was sure.
> 
> And then my controller started shaking and crap erupted from that terminal and I definitely wondered what I had just done. I’m still not sure how I survived this boss battle, but it did involve a lot of screaming and frantic swaps to my inventory screen so I could take a break or look something up, or heal. But I did beat the waterblight on my first go...and then went on an extended vacation in game.


	8. Rest and Reconnaissance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A break between quest lines, a chance to breathe and see what you’ve done so far.

**Hero of Hyrule, you have done well to come here.**

He’s had so many voices in his head lately, but he thinks he actually _heard_ that. He sits up a little straighter, and slowly scanned the area.

**By defeating the Temple Guardian, you have shown courage and grown in strength for your trials ahead. There is evil brewing against the land of Hyrule and you will be needed. Bring the Amethyst to the Incarnation of Hylia and go onward to the people of the water. Your quest continues there.**

The voice faded, replaced by neverending drone of insects. Link felt disquieted. Even though it was late in the day, maybe he should try and make his way back to the barracks. Getting to his feet; he dusts himself off as his eye catches a tiny glow, tumbling about in the brush nearby. He grows still and watches. Is it a firefly? No, this is a steady light, fireflies flicker. 

_it’s a fairy, you should catch it in a bottle_

He has heard of fairies, but didn’t think they were real. He supposed there would be a dragon by the end of this. He can hear faint, ethereal bells as it flutters about. Without taking his eyes from it, he quietly pulls the empty bottle from his pack and removes the stopper. Creeping forward, stalking the tiny creature until it gets close and in a fluid motion, swings the bottle forward and catches it. He quickly stops the bottle and looks at his prize. A pair of gossamer wings, shaped like a butterfly’s but veined like a darter’s frame the body, which just seems to be light to him. It flutters about the bottle, and he can still hear the gentle tinkling sound it makes as it moves. It doesn’t seem distressed, but he is unsure how he feels capturing such a pretty thing like this. 

_you may need it later_

There seems to be some agreement from the past wielders of the blade on this, so he reluctantly tucks the bottled fairy into his pack and hopes it will be ok.

*****************

Four days later he is back at the castle and preparing to present himself to the Queen. He has had time to bathe and sleep, and is feeling more like himself. The heat and misery of Faron are fading, but the monster in the chamber still dances in his mind at night. The corrosive saliva of the creature left a long, ragged scar on his left arm, and it stands out like new pink flesh, a little less forgiving than what he’d been born with. After some internal debate, he wears the hero’s clothes to his meeting, as the long sleeves will cover the mark.

She is seated at her desk and looks up from her writing as he enters her office. She is dressed in pinks and golds and white, as usual. The combination is bright and cheerful, he thinks. Her long blonde hair is tucked behind her ears, and she looks tired today. Dark circles pool under her blue eyes, but those eyes are still sharp. 

“Still have the hat, I see.”

He closes his eyes and heaves a small sigh. “Yes, I don’t understand how it stayed put but it did.”

She nods and smiles just a little. “It’s good to see you, but I feel you’re back rather quickly. Did you find anything?”

He approached her desk and sat in the chair before it. The quartermaster at the Faron barracks also seemed to think he’d only been gone a day at most. He’d been unable to track time in the temple, but he had slept a few times and was sure he’d been in it for days. Maybe a week. At least. “I’m not sure time moved in the same ways inside those ruins, because I feel like I was in there...quite a while. I found this, and it was hard won.” He removes the purple stone from his pack, unwraps it and carefully places it before her. “I think it is an amethyst?”

She picks the stone up and studies it, slowly turning it over, frowning a little. She says nothing for a long time and Link worries that he has brought back the wrong treasure. He does not want to go back to Faron. 

“There was something else in the box with that,” his words tumble out. “Red crystal, about the size of my palm, in the shape of a heart and covered in gold filigree. It vanished when I touched it. Was that what I was looking for?”

Her attention is very suddenly on him and those blue eyes are intense on his own. “Those red crystals are for you,” she places the purple stone down and leans across the desk a little. “What, exactly, did you do to get that box? My understanding is the heart container is gifted after a considerable trial.”

He could have used some of this information before heading to Faron. He recounted his encounter with the Temple Guardian, showing the scar on his arm where the saliva had hit. “Did you know there was something like that in there?” He hopes she did not. He does not want to learn she has been dishonest with him.

She doesn't break eye contact with him. “No, I did not. I thought I had sent you off with as much protection as I could. If I could have armed you with knowledge, I would have. I’m sorry I was unable to do that.”

She turns back to the stone. “In the week or so you’ve been gone, there have been rising reports of monsters across Hyrule, and people going missing. At least one village, Eppon, has gone completely silent. I am not sure what role this stone plays, assuming there is one. I will hold onto this and see what can be learned about it.”

“Once I got out of the temple, I heard a voice,” he hopes that he isn’t going to sound like he’s taken leave of his senses. “It suggested going to the ‘people of the water’ which has to mean the Zora Domain.”

“Eppon sits on the edge of the Domain, it would make sense to scout that area next.”

“Right.” Of course. Maybe he could get one more night in an actual bed at least. “I’ll leave tomorrow.”

“I’ll have a horse and supplies prepared.” She turns her focus to papers on her desk, taking some notes. 

He paused before leaving, not sure why it seems so important to tell her this now. “You know, I met your father once.”

Zelda looks up from whatever it is she is jotting down and makes a small sound of interest. He has her attention.

“Yes, I was seventeen and he came to the academy for some reason. I don’t know why he picked me out of the crowd; but he asked my name and when I told him, he put a hand on my shoulder and said he hoped I would always be loyal to Hyrule and its people.” He paused, thinking back on the day, how he could hardly believe such a thing was happening to him. “He was a good man,”

She is silent for a moment, gathering herself before speaking. “Thank you, for that, Link. He made a point of meeting every young man he could with your name, because he had a Zelda.” As she turns away he can see a tear in her eye. “He wanted to make sure he met whoever might be called.” she is silent for a moment. “I miss him.”

“He was a good man,” Link repeats, quietly. He feels awkward, not intending to stir this emotion with his story. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“It's OK. I wonder what he would say to all of this.” A moment passes. “Did you ever meet my dear Dozam?” 

The late king? “No, only from afar. But he seemed like a good man, too.”

She drops her attention back to her desk work and dismisses him softly. “Thank you, Link. That’s all.”

He feels mildly confused as he leaves, and it seems like right now would be a great time for some swordplay. 

************

He takes himself to the yard to practice with the sword. It's empty, and that’s just fine. Better than fine, he can work through the knots in his brain in private. He works slowly through his forms, listening to his body for any new pain or sore spots he may have acquired in Faron. Finding none, he slowly works himself harder until he is slashing the air at full speed, lost in the meditation of the movement. He gives the sword a big, showy flourish, because he likes how it looks and then takes a break. He is warm and a little sweaty, and he feels good.

“Is your name Link?” the sudden voice is so pretty and feminine. He turns and oh, _Hylia_ ; she is so, so _young_. He wonders how long she had been watching him. “You’re the one that pulled the sword, right? I like watching you work with it.”

“Ahh, yes, that’s me and thank you,” 

She is leaning over the low wall around the edge of the yard. She has long brown hair that frames her pretty face, and emerald colored eyes. She is looking at him as though he might be a meal. He has seen that look before, but it’s unsettling on such a young face. “Come here, hero, I wish to ask you something.”

He still frowns at the title and approaches her a little wary. He keeps out of arm’s reach. “What can I do for you?”

What she proposes would have been _very_ interesting to him, with her, if he were 20 years younger. It would be interesting to him, with her, were she twenty years older. Instead, he is mildly horrified, and he steps away.

“I’m sorry, no. I’m very… flattered, but I’m sorry. You’ll thank me later.” He turns, sword still in hand, and strides off as quickly as he can without it looking like he is in a hurry. _What is going on?_ He has certainly been propositioned before, but not in a few years and he found the grey in his hair and creases to his face made him less noticeable to younger women ( _oh Hylia she was still a child_ ) He goes to hide in his room, vowing to save his practice for very early in the morning or late at night.

**************  
There’s a knock on the door of his room and it wakes him in the morning. He had dreamt of fighting the spider and is bleary from it, stumbling to the door in just his trousers. He opens the door to reveal another young woman behind it, but this one does not appear ready to fawn over him. She has white hair and there’s a red eye with a tear painted on her forehead. Her garb would indicate she is Sheikah. He blinks at her.

“Good morning, Master Link, I trust you slept well.”

“Not really. I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met?”

“Apologies. I am Impa, advisor to the queen.”

He stares, not sure what he is supposed to do. She is slightly taller than him, too.

“There’s been a change in plans for you. The queen would like to meet with you over breakfast, we have learned some things about the stone you found. I’m to escort you, so please get ready quickly.”

There was not going to be enough coffee in Hyrule today. 

An hour later, he is on his second cup. There’s always cream in the castle it seems, and he’s generous with it, liking the way the coffee feels in his mouth when he drinks it. He takes small pleasure in this. 

They are meeting in Zelda’s private dining room with Impa and a rotating group of people who came to offer a report or an insight and then left. One of them had been his reference librarian. They’d made brief eye contact and she’d pointedly ignored him until she left. But she brought a book that had a drawing of the purple stone that he’d found...and four others that were similar. Portal stones, Impa had said. Get the five of them together in the right place and they open up a portal to an alternate place, a dark world. There seemed to be some agreement that there was a presence from this other universe that had tendrils out in Hyrule. 

A dark world? The words stirred something in him. A few Links of the past had experience with that so he spoke up. 

“When you say a dark world, do you mean something like Lorule or the twilight realm? Because both of those have been called a dark world. Also, I’m not sure why you’d want to open a portal to either place. I don’t think either one worked out well for Hyrule.” Something else about stones and portals niggled at the back of his mind. “What if finding these is some sort of trap to let something into Hyrule or out of Hyrule? You’ve considered that, right?”

Impa and Zelda stare at him. 

“There is a Triforce of Power at play here, too, right? Isn’t that what, ah, calls me? Wouldn’t it make sense that whatever is behind that might try to trick us?”

He’d only ever carried out the orders before. He’d never been privy to coming up with them. No one had ever asked for his input; but they wouldn’t have asked him to meet if they hadn’t wanted his opinions, right?

“We probably had not considered that as seriously as perhaps we should have,” says Impa. 

“It just...there was something else about gathering magic stones to open something and it ended up being a bad idea.” He is trying to grab onto the memory, but it’s slippery; like it’s just a memory of a memory. “If there are multiple steps here, maybe we locate these portal stones and then be very careful about what happens with them. If this is a trap, it would be dumb to walk into it.” _Especially if something like that has already happened._

The mood in the room subtly shifts to being more somber. Breakfast dishes get taken away as they continue to discuss the stones and where they might be. Their talks extend into lunch. Link realizes he is probably getting another night in his bed. He doesn’t feel like they have a real idea of what is going on, but Impa seems confident in her findings, and Zelda seems to trust Impa. It will have to do for now. 

He waits until it’s dark to go back to the yard to dance with the Master Sword. He revels in the activity, letting his body and mind flow as he moves through forms. He thinks he should find an actual sparring partner to mix things up. He ends with a flourish again and then hoists the sword above his head, closing his eyes and tilting his head skyward. For a moment, he communes with past wielders of the blade; and he thinks he might be able to stand with them. 

The next day he is up early and is off, on a bright palomino gelding who likes to run, heading east to the river lands. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Historical note, I am writing this during the COVID-19 pandemic. On 3/16 my state got a curfew and many businesses were ordered closed. My job is sort of considered essential services and l work late. Monday was WILD and I’m hoping it’s just reactionary freak out and not the new normal.
> 
> And my hours got cut on 3/19. And I’ve probably been exposed. And I’m kinda freaking out right now. 
> 
> I had a rough time with this one and I would like to thank littledeerling for their help on getting this chapter into something I was ready to post. 
> 
> So I write to help work through my own anxieties. He has a good ending, I hope I do, too.


	9. The River Temple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Into the water, where monsters lurk. Sometimes they go home with you.

The terrain gets rocky as he approaches the river lands, slowing his progress. He got out early this morning, hoping to see Eppon before heading into the Zora Domain proper. This is a section of Hyrule he hasn’t been to before, he’s not sure what to expect. 

It’s early afternoon when he spots a settlement that must be Eppon and urges the little gold horse to a jog. He rides to what should be the center of town and dismounts, dropping his reins to the ground. He scans the area. It’s quiet. There are no people. Every window he can see is broken. Every door is off its hinges, in splinters or both. There’s a heavy, foul smell in the air and he can hear what might be thousands of flies. He is not about to go checking buildings alone. What happened here?

The palomino startles and snorts. Link grabs the reins before the horse tries to bolt. “Steady. Steady.” He whispers, pushing his knuckles into the crest of the horse’s neck. The horse snorts again, and his ears flick. He is focused on what appeared to be the general store. Link turns his attention to where the horse is pointing. The door is smashed in, like every other structure in town, but he thinks he might see something move within. The horse takes a step back. He is about to make a run for it. “ _ Steady, _ ” Link flips the reins over the horse’s neck and quickly puts his foot in the left stirrup and pulls himself up. The horse bolts as he swings his leg over the cantle of his saddle and he grabs a handful of mane as he tries to get control back. The horse gets four strides in before he gets it stopped. He snorts and flips his head, dancing underneath Link. The horse was a little hotter than his past few mounts, but he seems very unsettled. He pushes on to the Zora Domain, keeping the horse well in hand. 

The horse worries and frets the entire way to the barracks. It is sweaty and still agitated when he passes it to the stablemaster with an apology.

“What did you do to this horse?”

“We rode through Eppon and something scared him. I didn’t see it.”

The stablemaster shakes his head, not approving of whatever happened to this animal. He takes the reins and leads the horse off. Link heads off to the barracks for dinner and to find out what he can. He’s not able to find out much. It seems one day Eppon was fine and the next morning it was empty and broken, not a soul to be found. Investigations turned up nothing of note, aside from an eeriness in the dead town. 

The next morning he heads to the Zora Domain proper, hoping the people of the rivers might be able to assist him. He finds a loose collection of shops and services where Hylian and Zora mingle. He’s met one or two Zora before, but seeing so many in one place is new. They are an aquatic race, with brightly colored, streamlined bodies. They seem to wear jewelry and not much else, though Link supposes clothing is a liability when you’re swimming. They are exotic to him, and being among so many is like being in a shoal of fish in Lurelin. He talks to shop keepers and the fellow who owns the inn, and a bar maid or three to eventually learn where and when he can find the Zora emissary. By the afternoon he finds himself at the palace, trying to convince a guard that he truly is an emissary of the Hyrulean Queen, on a mission directly from her. 

The palace of the Zora Domain rises from the collective source of the rivers, cool milky stone with a pale green tint. He’s told at night the stone glows and he thinks he’d like to see that. The guard denies him entrance, but does direct him to an ornate outbuilding to meet with some official.

It’s evening by the time he heads back to the barracks, limping just a little. It’s been a long day for his left leg. The palace does subtly glow as the daylight fades, and he takes a minute to admire it. He has managed to get an appointment with a diplomat for the following morning, and that will have to do for now. He did not think that there would be so much side nonsense involved with being a hero of legend. 

Zelda must have sent some sort of word ahead of him, as his meeting the next day goes more quickly than he’d hoped. The official he meets with is named Evim, and he reminds Link of a reef shark. He is tall, a steely blue grey with black tipped fins. He has a mouth full of sharp teeth, but is gentle and at ease. He tells Link that there have been other disappearances, Zora who went out fishing and didn’t come back. Places don’t feel safe. At night, there’s something on the move in the river lands. Something dark and nearly liquid, it seems to defy description by those who claim to have seen it. Link wonders if this is a pattern. 

He finds the river bed ruins easily enough. Five columns rising out of the shallows, forming an arc in front of what seems to be a cave entrance with a stone door. There’s another set of steps leading down; and it's damp again, but cooler, and he can hear water flowing. Confident he knows what to expect this time, he heads downward. 

********************

The sun was shining and the sky was clear when he dragged himself out of the depths of the river land ruins, far downstream of where he went in. He looks to the sky, glad to see it again. He wasn’t sure he would. He is soaked, boots squelching. He closes his eyes and tears stream.

He died in there. He  _ died _ . 

He’d found the map. He’d found the key that opened that final room. He’d worked his way through the chambers of the water dungeon, finding an aquamarine that matched the amethyst, but the back passages were flooded and he had to push forward to the room that could only be opened with the key. He knew what the key meant this time, and he decided to prepare, as much as he could, for whatever waited for him behind that door. There was no fire, but he found a dry spot to sleep, and wrung his clothes out as well as he could. 

He dreamed about her again. His mouth on hers, her body pressed against him, how she felt when they were together, her hands in his hair, how she’d pull on it as they moved together. He can smell her, taste her, hear her voice whisper his name in his ear; but he wakes up, and she isn’t there. He wonders if she has given birth to that child that wasn’t his, and if it was a boy or a girl, and he regrets not giving her what she wanted the entire time they were together. He just didn’t know. 

He knows this is probably not the road his mind should go down before he needs to take on whatever lurks behind that ornate door, in the ruins of this temple in the river lands, but he is alone and he wishes he was not. How did the others do this alone?

He unlocked the door, this one decorated with an image of what seems like a long necked sea turtle with a studded shell. The lock is turquoise, matching the head of the key. He crosses the threshold to another huge, empty room, this one with a lake in it, and the door locks him in again. A snaky blue head and neck rise, hissing, out of the water. It has no obvious weak spot, so he stands ready, and lets it come to him. It rears back and strikes, hitting the shield and pushing him back a step or two, but he manages to connect with the sword. It darts back and then swings its neck sideways; forcing him back, lest it take him off his feet. 

This beast seems limited to the water, and to snaking its neck out directly and a side to side sweep. He plans his attack and engages, shield out, sword at the ready. It aims at him and he is able to deal some damage before it draws back. They continue this dance for a while, and then the creature changes things up, drawing back and submerging itself. He steps forward to the water’s edge, wondering if he’s finished it off, when that snakey head and neck explode forward from the depths. 

The strike connects.

He is flung backwards into the wall. 

He hears glass in his pack break; and thinks perhaps his back broke as well. He suddenly can’t feel his feet and there’s blood in his mouth. 

Something has definitely come loose inside him, and he feels as though he is fading. 

_ This is how it ends then, as a stain on a wall in some crumbling ruin. The sword chose poorly after all. _ ..

His view darkens and time comes to a standstill. 

The gentle clinking of glass is the last thing he hears.

And then his shrouded vision is filled with silvery light and pink glitter. There’s a sound he can only describe as sparkles. He is back on his feet and he feels  _ fine _ , more than fine; it's like he’s 25 again and as he looks up, the fairy he had caught is spiraling above his head, freed of its bottle. The blade is glowing and when he swings it experimentally a beam of light fires from the sword and hits the creature. He had no idea such a thing was possible. He tries it again. And again. 

The beast finally falls and he drops sword and shield and goes to lean against the wall of the chamber. He slides down to sit, drops his head to his hands and shakes. He has no idea how long he sits there, but he hears another box drop and a stone door slide open. He should go back, but he can’t get up yet. He keeps feeling the strike, hearing the glass, tasting his own blood over and over. Eventually part of him urges him to get up and get moving. He makes his way to the box and finds another red crystal heart that vanishes when he touches it. It does nothing for his mental state. Then he makes his way out the door and stumbles out into the sun where he needs to stop again. 

He should get back to the Domain while the sun is still out, it would not be good to be alone in the dark in a strange place. 

He must look visibly ill when he gets back to the barracks because the quartermaster asks him if he wants a doctor. He doesn’t. He doesn’t think there’s anything a doctor can do if that red crystal heart couldn’t help. He goes to the bunk they’ve given him and tries to sleep.

He couldn’t. Not easily. The strike, the glass, the blood. Over and over. Only when he was completely exhausted did he sleep, and then it was nightmares. He left the barracks after a day of this, went to the Zora Domain proper and found a room at an inn, hoping more privacy would help. 

He spent three days in that room, forcing himself out to eat and little else. On the third day, his eye caught the hilt of the sword over his right shoulder. He could not stay here forever. He could not make the trip back to Hyrule Castle alone. He wrote a letter and had it sent by pigeon to the Castle.

_ To her Majesty, Queen Zelda Hyrule, _

_ I hope this missive finds you well, and that your research into the stones is progressing. I am currently at an inn in the Zora Domain and unable to travel alone. I request an escort, preferably someone who might be familiar to our cause. I will explain in person. _

_ Your servant, _

_ Link _

A week later, he was nursing a cup of coffee in a chair in front of the inn and staring out into the square, on the surface watching the Zora go about their day, none of it registering deeper. He still played the moment he died in his head but it was mostly in the background. It didn’t always stay there. 

“Link?”

He turned to the voice. Not Zelda. “Impa?”

“Yes,” she drops to a squat so as not to loom over him. “I’m here to take you back. Are you ok to ride?” 

“Yes.”

“Are you ready to start back in the morning? Maybe get a good night’s sleep?” 

He considers this. He can’t stay here drinking coffee the rest of his life, though that sounds appealing. “Sure.”

She looks him in the eye and it feels like she can see straight through him. “What happened, Link?”

He does not answer her, but he does sigh a little and turns his face away from hers. 

“Maybe we can talk on the road, it’s a long ride ahead of us. Let’s meet here at daybreak.”

He nods, still looking away. 

The next day he is back on the road with Impa and a pair of Royal Guards, heading back to Central Hyrule. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am trying to write this part on 3/21. The first day of spring, and the day my state went on shelter at home. I’m considered essential services, and there’s a public health angle to what I do. I’m not sure what’s going to happen the next week, and it was tough fleshing this out, though I wrote up his injury a few weeks earlier, I just wasn’t sure where it would go. 
> 
> The day I finished this was 3/26 and I’m not at work today because I developed a cough overnight. I don’t have a fever. It could be stress, it could be seasonal allergy, it could be a cold, it could be something else. I am locking myself down and waiting and seeing and I’m glad for this outlet, though I’d sort of like to be past this point.
> 
> I did write a bunch of super fluffy happy things that will probably happen in future chapters, as that is what felt better today. Wait and see. 
> 
> I appreciate everyone who leaves a like or a comment, thank you for taking that time.


	10. The Song of Healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If only it were as easy as playing a melody.

A month after dying in the river land ruins, he is in his room at the castle, on his back in bed, hands over his eyes, trying to remind himself that he killed the beast that killed him. He’d won. 

Impa had been relentless on the ride back. She probed, she prodded, she gently but expertly applied pressure. After three days, he finally broke down to her, giving her the broad strokes of what had happened.She took a hand off her reins and reached out to squeeze his wrist. 

“I’m sorry. Do you want to talk more about it?”

He shook his head and she let him be. For a while. She came and sat next to him at the fire when they’d stopped for the night, leaned into him and softly offered advice. 

_It’s good to talk about this, but only when you’re ready. Your mind doesn’t know the difference between the memory and the event. When you remember, it is like it’s happening again. When you talk about it before you’re ready, it’s like it is happening again. But you have to remember, Link, you lived. You lived. Even if you think you just got lucky, you still lived and the beast died. And the beast is dead because of you._

She asked him to remember that he’d slain the creature who killed him. Every time he thought about what happened, he was to also remember he’d won. It wasn’t easy to do.

Zelda had asked him to her office every day for the past week. The first day he just didn’t go, and went out to the yard with the sword instead. He has been dancing with the Sword that Seals the Darkness every day, sometimes more than once. The next day he went but said he had nothing to say, and she dismissed him. Impa met him on his way out and offered to spar in the yard with him. He turned her down and went to the yard alone. The three of them did this four days in a row before he agreed to take on the Shiekah woman in the yard, his curiosity finally getting the better of him.

She turned out to be a worthy opponent. When he did his forms alone, he often got lost in the moment, moving from muscle memory, mind freed of thinking about what he was doing. He did not have that luxury with a partner. She was quick on her feet and her style was unusual enough he had to stay alert to where she was lest she disarm or check him. They finally agreed to a draw and stepped back from each other. He was breathing a little heavily and felt warm...and a little tiny bit like himself. Just a little. 

“How was that?” She asked. 

“That was good. We can definitely do that again.”

“How are you doing? Really?”

_Oh_. He is not sure how much to trust her. Shiekah have always been a bit of a mystery to him. But she already knows what he carries with him. “Not really great? I try to remember I killed it, but it’s always after it killed me.”

She steps forward, fierce light in her red brown eyes, and puts a hand on his shoulder. He can see that eye on her forehead is smudged; so it’s paint, and not a tattoo like he’d thought. Her voice is soft but direct. “You won, Hero.”

Inside, he winces a little bit. 

“If you are ready, you should tell the queen. I fear we do not have time for you to be fully recovered from this before we need to move forward. If sparring helps you, we can do this every day. We can do it right before you see her. I can have her set the meeting in a less formal place. But you need to say something to her, and I am truly sorry if you’re not quite ready.”

He breaks her gaze and looks off toward the stable, finding a horse to focus on. He draws a breath and stops. “Maybe tomorrow. Maybe.”

She squeezes his shoulder and walks off.

The following day he is summoned to her parlor instead of her office. It’s much less formal. There’s a couch and a low table set for tea and cookies. She is tucked against one of the arms of the couch; also looking less formal without her diadem, blonde hair tucked behind her ears and secured with a crystal covered clip at her temples. Her gown is less formal as well. It’s like she is meeting him as a person and not an object this time. She smiles when he enters the room and motions to the other end of the couch. He quickly looks for another spot to sit, but the only other chair in the room is occupied by a sleeping calico cat. He takes a seat, sitting ramrod straight, staring forward, radiating discomfort. 

_Oh this was a bad idea today. You killed the beast last._

“Link,” her voice is soft and kind. “Impa thought this would be a better place to meet. Please make yourself comfortable.”

He doesn’t move for a long time. She pours some tea and takes a cookie. He looks at the cat, still sleeping in a sun beam. She takes her time, but she is done with both before he has made a move.

“Link. I want to help you, but I can’t if you cannot tell me what you need.” She reaches a hand to his shoulder. “Please. Tell me what happened to you.”

He sighs deeply and brings his left hand to his forehead, avoiding her eyes. “I. I died in that river temple, Zelda. I died faster than I could get a potion. If I had not caught that fairy…” he does not want to think about that too hard. It is so hard to hear it out loud. It had been so very fast, one minute on his feet, doing battle, and the next actively dying, feeling his light go out. He grinds to a stop, hands gripping the cushion beneath him, his mind mired in the strike, the glass, the blood. He closes his eyes, counts several breaths, feels tears well up though he is willing them to stop, he is going to tough this out alone. 

Somewhere in the distance, he hears her get up, feels a weight on the couch next to him, and there are arms around him and she is whispering “it’s ok, Link, you’re ok, you’re safe now, you’re safe here. You’re here. You won.” He stays locked in his own head, just listening to her repeat his name and how safe it is before he considers believing her; and when he does, he remembers that he slew the creature that killed him. He softens into her embrace, and it feels good, like maybe he really is safe. Maybe. He allows himself a sob, and she pulls him in closer. He reaches an arm around her and holds her fiercely, the mark on his right hand waking as he does so.

He eventually, gradually comes back out of his head; reminding himself that he won; slowly becoming aware that she rested her face on top of his head, and is gently stroking his hair. It feels good, comfortable. He has no idea how long he has been desperately clutching the Queen of Hyrule. He pulls himself out of that space between her neck and shoulder and he’s inches from her face staring into her eyes. They are a cool sky blue, with tiny darker flecks, set into her face with tiny wrinkles his mother called _laugh lines._ He wonders how it sounds when she laughs. He drops his eyes to her lips. How did her lips feel? Her hand is still in his hair. He feels flushed to the tips of his ears and pulls himself back abruptly, breaking the moment.

She moves away as well and they both stare forward for a moment. His heart is galloping and he is wondering what just happened. She speaks up, and does she sound a little...awkward?

“My boys liked to have their hair stroked when they were upset. It seemed right.”

He darts his eyes toward her. She is still looking forward. “It’s ok. I found it. Comforting.” He thought he could still feel her fingers, had she brushed by his ear? “I.. am going to go now.” He tentatively runs a finger over the edge of his right ear, as though trying to recall her touch. 

“You are dismissed.”

Impa was waiting in the hall. 

“We are going to spar _right now.”_

“Did you speak to her?”

“I did and we are going to the yard.”

They spar, but he is distracted and aggressive, and Impa stops it with a sharp word. He is sure things went well with the Queen? He says yes, but he isn’t really sure. 

He has a nightmare that night. There was no fairy in a bottle in his pack, and when he breaks against the wall he wakes up gasping for air. _You won you won you won._

********************  
A week goes by, he spends it trying to be physically active. He offers to spar with anyone who will take him on, and he moves through forms when no one is willing. He convinces the riding master to start teaching him dressage. The activity distracts him, and gives him less time to dwell on how he died. 

At least during the day. Night is different. The dreams aren’t always about the River Temple, either. Sometimes it’s an open area under a night sky and he is facing a dark presence he can’t quite see, but it’s somehow familiar. Sometimes she is with him, as well, offering magical support to his steel. This battle never starts, it’s always just the faceoff. One morning he awakens with the name of his adversary in his head. _Ganondorf_.

The top of the Triforce. Of course. He sits up in his bed, sorting through things his brother had told him and memories of past heroes. Of course this is what is coming. 

Of course. 

He is out in the yard swinging the Master Sword before a small crowd, and being a bit more showy with the blade than he might be alone. He has grown stronger with his daily practice, it’s good to work. He ends, flourishing the blade before sending it home to its sheath and hears Impa call his name. 

“Master Link! The Queen requests you for a meeting immediately.”

“Immediately?” He is suddenly conscious of how dirty he is. 

“Immediately, that’s why she sent me to fetch you.” She gives him a grin. “She has smelled sweaty boys before. Come.”

***************  
And that is how he finds himself in her office, disheveled and still feeling sticky. She greets him with a warm smile, and he thinks there’s a sparkle in her eye.

“Hard at work, I see.”

“Always. I’m curious as to what was so urgent I could not clean up first.”

“How much do you know about the stories that surround those who bear the Master Sword?” Like that she is all business. He undoes his baldric and settles into a chair, loosely crossing his arms and leaning the sword against the chair. 

“Some. I cannot say I thought those stories were true until recently.” 

She folds hands in front of her and considers him. He is never quite sure what to feel when she does this. Today he just meets her eyes and tries to be neutral. After a long moment she leans forward and offers her right hand.

“Link, take my hand,”

He looks at her hand, and then back at her, unsure. Tentatively, he reaches for her, and feels the mark and the back of his right hand warm as he closes the distance. She interlaces her fingers with his and he is not sure what to expect. 

“I am worried for you. Things are going to get worse as we move forward. I want you to know we are in this together.”

He nods. There’s a tiny little rodent nibbling at the back of his mind. Fear. Non specific, free floating fear. 

“The entity behind what you have experienced is the reincarnation of Ganondorf. He has been testing you so far.”

Link closed his eyes and huffed out a sigh. He’d found himself wanting. He could only imagine what a minor deity hoping to ultimately beat him thought of his performance. In his head, he thinks he hears glass breaking. 

She squeezed his hand and his eyelids fluttered open. Her eyes are so blue. “We have to trust that we will be ready for what is to come, but only if we prepare in the meanwhile. We still need the rest of the portal stones. I am not sure yet what role they play, but it seems they are still important.”

He gripped her hand a little more. “Are we sure that sending me out to find these isn’t just a way to reveal my weaknesses?”

She tightens her jaw a little and swallows. Her eyes soften. “I’ve considered that, Link. I don’t know that we have a choice. Impa and I have thought that it would be best for you to go to The Lost Woods next. She will ride with you and wait.”

“I apologize if I overstep myself, Zelda.”His voice is a stage whisper because he thinks it might break if he is louder. “But I would like to be included on future discussions like that.”

“As you wish.” She takes her hand back. “Please be careful, Link.”

Once again, Impa is waiting in the hall. 

“The Lost Woods? That’s a real place?” He is not sure why anything surprises him anymore. 

Impa nods. “We will ride in the morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this while I was spending a week on do not leave the house quarantine for having mild, nonspecific viral signs. These were the sorts of signs that in another year I’d just go into work with and be a little grumpy about it. I was worried this would be much more difficult to do, but it came much more easily than the last two. 
> 
> I am ok, and I hope you are too. It’s such a weird time out there.


	11. The Lost Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In order to find yourself, you first need to be lost.

Time moves differently in the Lost Woods.

It’s never day or night inside the Woods. It’s always the low light of twilight on a foggy evening. He takes care, having heard so many stories of what happens to careless travelers who lose their way. Surely he’s been in here hours already, but the light never changes. He isn’t tired, he isn’t hungry. He just is. 

For a while he thinks he has just been going in circles. He is pretty sure he has seen that particular twisted limb on that particular shattered tree before. Things seem to move in the fog, but when he tries to look at them directly, they are gone. There is almost no ambient sound; just his foot steps on a dense carpet of dead, dry leaves. 

Sometimes he stops, trying to get his bearings and find the path he should be on. Sometimes he needs to remind himself that he won, and that’s getting a little easier to do. Sometimes he thinks he can feel her hand in his hair. 

Sometimes he wonders how this all came to be. 

Sometimes things get strange, as he wanders on in the relative silence. He thinks the distance between him and past wielders of the blade grows shorter at times. Once he thought his steps were joined by a golden wolf with one eye. This was one creature that did not immediately vanish when he tried to look at it. Instead, it seemed to consider him a moment, much the way Zelda did, and then it continued on its way. He wasn’t sure when it stopped walking with him, but it disappeared as quietly as it had arrived. 

Every now and then, he sees a fairy, and when he does he stops to watch it bumble about. He doesn’t have a bottle, so he doesn’t try to catch them. He quietly thanks the ones he sees. 

He has a lot of time to think.

He thinks about Impa’s theory on the portal stones. She now seemed to think that they were to open a portal to whatever dark world they linked to and seal Ganondorf behind it. That was to be Zelda’s role, apparently, to drive the final nail while he provided distraction and protection. She spoke with confidence, but he wondered how she’d come to her conclusions. He tries to find weak spots in her ideas as he walks–was that the same twisted limb _again?_ But he isn’t sure there’s quite enough to have a weak spot. There are clearly things they don’t know about, but he has no idea what they might be. 

He thinks about Zelda. She’s gone from a thing to him–the Queen of Hyrule–to a person. She was tough, but she seemed genuinely scared the last time they had spoken. 

He wondered if she still thought of him as the Hero of Hyrule, or if he was starting to be just Link for her. He hoped so. 

He thought he would like to know her as a friend. Maybe more. That might be more than he _should_ hope for, but he could hope. That would keep him going as he continued around the Woods for what felt like weeks. Maybe months. 

Maybe longer. 

He finally stumbles into the heart of what The Lost Woods hides; and it is sunny and green, no longer continually twilight. The light moves with the hour again. It feels safe, and he is finally tired. There is a huge tree at the center of this oasis. He makes his way to it, finding a spot he can curl up and sleep for a while, hoping he isn’t making a mistake in doing so; but oh, he is so tired. 

Celia comes to him in a dream again, but it’s also not her. Her curves are familiar, but her auburn hair is blonde, and her green eyes are blue. She still tastes like mangos, but when she whispers his name in his ear, it’s not quite her voice. He knows the voice, though. He rubs the sleep from his eyes and sighs. 

He made some tea and wondered about the past relationships between Links and Zeldas. The hero’s story always seemed to end once the final beast was slain. The Triforce of Courage got put away until it was needed again. How did the two pieces at the base of the triangle work together?

The one with the bird seemed to have loved her from the start. The one who was a wolf traveled with a different princess. The one with the ocarina ( _what was an ocarina_ ) had known her when they were both children, but Link thought he might have ended up with someone else. A couple of them were so young, they probably didn’t understand how very interesting another person could be. Some of them finished their service and left, some of them...stayed, maybe?

He shook his head, wanting to push whatever these feelings were away, while wanting to hold them close at the same time. Surely this was resulting from all the alone time and nothing more. 

Was he a fool to hope?

 **It is good to see you back here, Hero. It has been so very long.**

It is not the exact same voice as the one he heard outside the Forest Temple, but it has the same otherworldly quality to it. Clutching his mug in both hands, back to the great tree, he slowly scans the area with both eyes and ears, seeking the source. 

**Don’t be afraid, chosen of Farore, you have come here for a good reason.**

He takes one hand off his mug and uses it to steady himself against the tree as he rises to his feet. 

“Show yourself.” 

There’s a chuckle, but it seems good hearted and friendly. 

**Behind you, brave one. You sought out my shelter to rest.**

The tree. It’s the tree. 

He slowly turns, but he is too close to see much, so he carefully steps back until he can see the rough shape of a face on the trunk. There’s definitely going to be a dragon before this is over. It seems to recognize him, and it seems friendly. How does one respectfully address a tree?

“I’m sorry, it seems you know me while I have not had the honor of your name.”

**My apologies. I am the Great Deku Tree and you have come to the Kokiri Forest. By coming to this place, you have proven yourself worthy of that sword on your back. There is one more trial for you here before you may pass back to Hyrule.**

Link’s heart drops a little. Is he going to have to fight the giant tree? 

**Fear not, Hero of Hyrule, you have already begun.**

“I don’t understand.”

**You will. Tell me about you. You are much older than most who have stood where you do. You must have much to tell.**

And that’s how it starts. He loses track of how long he’s with the Tree. It might have been months. He is not exactly alone, but the Children of the Forest seem especially shy around him. He is too far removed from his own childhood, he supposed. If he is still and quiet and very lucky, he might catch a glimpse. 

They develop a routine, where he starts his day doing forms with sword and then spends time telling the Tree stories. About how he broke his leg, the first time he ever saw the Master Sword, how years later it came out of the stone for him. He tells stories about the Forest Temple and skates around the River Temple. He talks about Zelda, how he thought he was a tool for her at first, and how kind she actually is, how he learned that she does care about him as a person. 

He keeps to himself how pretty he finds her, and how blue her eyes are, how her hand felt in his hair. How he had a moment where he wondered what it would be like to kiss her, before he came to his senses. How she whispers his name to him at night. 

The Tree asks about Zelda a lot. He doesn’t mind talking about her. 

Perhaps a year goes by. Eventually he tells The Tree about the day he died in the River Temple. How it had felt when the head of the monster struck him, hard enough to throw him back into a wall. The sound the glass made as it broke. The way his feet suddenly were not there and the awful coppery taste of blood in his mouth. How dark everything went. 

And how beautiful the fairy looked as it spiraled over his head and vanished after bringing him back from wherever he had briefly gone. 

How he then ended the beast with his sacred blade. 

Finally; it did not hurt, as much, to tell the entire story. 

The next day he stands before The Tree, prepared for more questions. 

**Hero, it is time for you to seek your destiny beyond these Woods. You have negotiated your trials here with courage and you are worthy. Go back to the Incarnation of Hylia and tell her the remaining stones she seeks are in the Gerudo Desert and the Island of Illusion. She will be needed for the final battle with Ganondorf. You must work as a team.**

He is surprised with this proclamation. “My understanding is that there are five portal stones. I was sent here for the third, but I haven't ound whatever wreckage I am to go through to find it. I haven't engaged whatever beast lurks at its center.”

The Tree chuckles. **But, Hero, you have done both here.**

He doesn’t really understand, but he accepts the polished opal and another crystal heart and heads back into the Woods, along a route the Tree has assured him is a shortcut back to his world. 

When he stumbles back out of the Woods, he is surprised to see that Impa is still camped in the clearing. He had been sure she would have gone back to the castle by now, sure he has spent years inside the Woods, talking to the tree and figuring out his worth. She seems surprised to see him.

“Did you get lost already, you just went in?” She leans forward a bit and narrows her eyes. “I think you have more grey in your hair, what happened to you in the past hour?”

An hour. He has been gone an hour. 

“It’s different in there, Impa. I feel like I was there far longer than an hour. Maybe years. I would like to see Zelda, as fast as possible. I have things to tell her.”

Impa furrows her brow, clearly confused.”it’s too late to break camp. We will ride back in the morning. Are you sure?”

He nods. “I’m sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, it’s pretty weird out there. I’m at the end of a week of doctor ordered stay at home orders and I’m hoping to go back to work in a couple days. In hindsight, I probably just had allergies but what a year. 
> 
> I rather liked the Lost Woods in BOTW. Creepy, but not really dangerous. It took me a while to figure it out, but finally wandering into the peaceful greens of the Korok Forest was such a pleasure. I knew that big pink tree I could see from afar was important, and I suspected I’d find something special there. It did not disappoint. 
> 
> You can ride a horse through the Woods, too.


	12. Something that Grows Over Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the road again, but with friends. Stargazing, but with friends.

When he enters her office, she has her head down, studying some book she has open. He pauses at the doorway to really look at her, feeling his heart rise at the sight of her. He’s so glad to see her. He wished he could ask her to take a walk down the beach in Lurelin and he smiles at the idea. She looks up at him, returns the smile and tilts her head a little. “Welcome back, Link.”

Oh, to finally hear her voice again. “It’s good to see you, “ he says warmly. 

“You’re different today.”

He stops. “Is that bad?”

She gives her head a small shake “It’s like you wear yourself more comfortably.” 

“I think I do. I have had a lot of time to think, Zelda.”

He presents her with the opal and tells her about his time in the Woods, about the wolf who walked with him, and the Great Tree he told stories to.

“I agree with the Deku Tree. it’s time for us to work more closely. Gerudo, then. We will travel together. Perhaps we can get better acquainted.”

He thought he’d like that. 

A few days later, they were off. The Queen on her white grey gelding. Link on a garish bay pinto mare, a couple of the royal guard for support and Impa on a fleet footed little dun. There was at least a week on the road before them. 

It is mid afternoon on the first day of travel when she rides up next to him. “Tell me about yourself, Hero.”

The title still doesn’t sit well with him, he hasn’t quite been able to fit into it. “What’s there to tell? You seemed to know everything about me at our first meeting.” He keeps his tone light and humorous.

She slows her horse a bit to let him catch up, and she turns to look him dead in the eye. “Statistics do not make the person, Link. Yes, I can point to facts about your life, but who are you behind them?”

He meets her eyes and marvels a little. She wants to know more about  _ him _ . “What do you want to know?”

“Tell me about your family. I know they breed good horses. I think you’re mounted on a horse from their farm, but who are they?”

_ Wow, ok. _

“Well.” where to begin. He was silent for a moment, focused on the motion of the horse under him. “My father loves horses, maybe more than anything. He is a tough man.”

_ Don’t come back. _

“I’m afraid the last time I saw him...it did not go well. My mother is very worried about me.”

“Mothers do that.” She pauses. Prior to leaving, she had passed rule temporarily to her oldest son, and left him with a group of trusted advisors. She must be worried, too. “You’re the youngest, right?”

“I have an older brother, and a sister in law, and a nephew. Kagun will probably take over the horses at some point.” He smiles a little, thinking of his brother. “It’s funny, he is very interested in stories that surround the Master Sword, though trying to draw it once was enough for him. He told me a lot about some of the ones who had this before me.”

“What did he think when you drew it?”

“I think he was excited with the idea of it. He was happy to try and teach me things he knew and he wanted me to have faith in myself.” Link turned his gaze forward, looking at the road between his mare’s ears. “I wish he were with me now, I’d appreciate his thoughts on things. He said the sword doesn’t make the wrong choice.”  _ Though I still wonder. _

They rode in silence for a moment before she asked “Did you ever want to settle down and have a family?”

He looked over at her, but she just looked curious. “If that’s too personal…”

“No, it’s ok. It’s just. I’m military and I moved constantly and I never thought it would be fair to someone else who had not signed up for it. I know others do it, it never sat right with me.”

“But did you want to?”

This wasn’t something he looked at very closely or very often. He frowned a little bit. “I don’t really know, it never seemed like an option with the life I chose. I don’t think I would have been a good husband or dad, being away so much.”

He went quiet. 

“I know some think I’m a bit of a heart breaker, but I never got involved with anyone without being up front about not being permanent. I just don’t think I’ve been ready to tie myself to a single place. Maybe when this is over. I don’t know.”

Silence again. He focuses on the sounds of shod hooves on the road, thinking about his last visit home and to Lurelin for the first time in a while. How had he gone his entire life without seeing what a bunch of messes he’d made. 

He finally spoke up. “I don’t really feel like more conversation right now.” 

Before she can answer; he clucks his mare to a jog, and then a canter.

He kept to himself until they break for camp and ignores the small talk over dinner. As soon as he can break away, he does so, taking his drink with him, hoping to get out of his head for a bit.

He found a small rise, perfect for stargazing and contemplation. He stood, back to camp, looking up at the night sky, cup of mulled wine in one hand. He scanned the stars, looking for familiar patterns and trying to recall the stories behind them. He didn’t hear her behind him until she placed a hand on his shoulder and said his name. He startled hard enough he choked and nearly spilled his wine.

“HYLIA. Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

She apologizes, but he thinks she's laughing to herself. 

They stood in silence for a moment. “I feel like I may have overstepped my bounds earlier and I came to offer apologies. I did not mean for you to reveal things that were painful for you.”

“Thank you.” he considers elaborating and stops himself. 

She breaks the awkward silence. “What were you doing out here?” 

“Looking for constellations.” He swung his gaze to the eastern sky and then pointed. “Do you see that collection of five stars in sort of a ‘W’ shape? That is called the King of the Red Lions, but it’s a boat of some sort.”

“I know some of these, too. That group of three are the golden goddesses.” She points to a spot in front of them, just above the horizon. “And if you take that point and look west, you can see The Wind Fish.”

They gaze into the night sky a little longer before Link suggests they both turn in and they go their separate ways. The next day they ride out and it feels much more easy between them. They talk about Hateno and he tells her about the first time he saw the Master Sword in its block in the Temple of Time, about how excited he was to touch it, and then how nothing happened. She tells him about growing up in the court, and her first ball, how she stumbled during her first dance in the heeled shoes she had to wear, how she thought it was funny, but her mother was mortified. He tells her about how he’d seen her once, across a large room, when she had still been Princess Zelda, and he’d just been one of maybe a dozen young men named Link in a class full of recruits at some ceremony or another. 

Two or three nights later, they are camped at the edge of the desert. The sky is clear, and the moon is just a sliver. As they finish up dinner, Link looks at the stars, filled with wonder at just how many there are. Gerudo had been his first post and he is still thrilled by the beauty of the desert night at night. Impulsively, he invites her to come look at constellations with him. 

She accepts. 

They head out a little ways from camp, and Link finds some stone rising from the sand to sit on. They look up into the night time sky, a million tiny points of light shining down, and they name the shapes they see. The Angler Fish. The octorock. Aquamentus. She puts her hands on the stone to lean back a little. He’s supposed to be courage, right? He places his hand over hers and turns his gaze to the sky, feeling his pulse quicken. When she intertwines his fingers with hers, his heart feels as though it skips a beat. 

They sit in silence. It would be ok if this night stretched forever, he thinks. 

Eventually, he darts his eyes to the side to look at her. She has oh so slightly turned her face toward him. He turns to meet her gaze and he melts. The starlight has framed her face so well, her blonde hair is ethereal and almost glows. He wonders if she would like it if he were to bite her ear lobe, just a little. He wonders how she tastes, and how she smells up close. Heart pounding, he leans toward her...and stops himself short. He can smell her. Vanilla and lilacs. He is still eye to eye with her. He is acutely aware how heavily he is breathing, and surely she can see his pulse at his throat.

And then she leans into him, bringing her lips to his ear and whispering “Is this a bad idea?”

_ This is a great idea.  _ But what he says is “You’re the wise one.”

They stay in this tableau for a while, neither moving, each listening to the other breathe, and finally she takes his other hand and sits back, holding both his hands in her lap. His heart gallops, and he takes deep, slow breaths to steady himself, hoping that whatever has gone here has not hurt something delicate he hoped to cultivate. Finally, she leans forward again; places a hand on the side of his face and gives him a chaste kiss on the other cheek. “Maybe now is not the right time.”

“Will there be a right time?” He whispers back.

She doesn’t answer, but squeezes his hands before letting go of him and standing up. “We should go back...”

A small sigh escapes him and he nods, standing up to escort her back. He considers taking her hand, but doesn’t; not sure it would be welcomed.

It’s a very long night for him.

He takes his coffee black in the morning, feeling tired and grumpy, not looking forward to a day of travel and trying to see the silver lining of having a bed tonight. It’s already hot, and the horses are sweaty and quiet. He is layered in chainmail and the green tunic, and the goddesses damned hat; and has decided he is just going to be quietly miserable until they are outside Gerudo town and he can find someone he knows. 

The going is slow, despite the road they are on, and there is no conversation among them. It is early evening before the walls of Gerudo Town rise in the distance. By the time they arrive and pass the horses to the barracks, Link is more than ready to eat and turn in. He and the guardsman stay outside the city proper–men are not allowed–while Zelda and Impa find rooms inside. He splurges on a bath, scouring off a week of travel and thinking before turning in.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed that. I appreciate anyone who has taken time to read this far. 
> 
> The next installment may be a little longer than usual. Its requiring a little more research than I anticipated and is being a bit tricky. I'm not going to leave you hanging, I promise.


	13. Premonitions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killing time in Gerudo Town, getting ready for the next step.

He knows he’s dreaming; but even so, he can’t change what has been happening. He’s not sure he is really himself. He caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror ( _ so many mirrors _ ) and his hair was darker, and he was  _ much _ younger; a teenager for certain and a lot more angry looking. He must be living someone else’s experiences in his head. 

It has been one undead thing after another in his way in this former prison in the desert. The going has been treacherous and sometimes he needs to change his form (somehow? He isn’t sure) and he needs some strange tool to get to the final chamber. He has the same shield and he has the same sword, but there’s another presence with him, too, 

_ (midna?) _

that he can’t quite figure out. There’s a final dance in that final chamber with a huge animated skeletal creature and an army of the undead, but in the end the stal and its minions fall to his sword. He feels triumphant, and for once stays on his feet, waiting for the way out to appear.

Instead, there’s a low rumble of laughter that fills the chamber. 

“Hylia, have you tired of sending children in your stead? Are you sending an old man in your name now?”

He swivels his head, looking for the source.

“Who do you think you are? Do you really think you are worthy of that tunic you wear?”

_ Do you? _

_ Really? _

_ Link, wake up. _

And like that he is in his bunk in the barracks, on his back, staring at the ceiling. The back of his right hand is burning. He sits up and stares at the triforce glowing under his skin, huffing a deep sigh.

It's already a long day.

************

He’d only been twenty when he had been sent to the desert with another dozen or so young men. The Gerudo outpost was a relatively new one, as negotiations between central Hyrule and the Gerudo had only settled to a comfortable level in the past decade or so. The desert had been so exotic after a few years in central Hyrule, another universe entirely from Hateno. 

He quickly realized that he’d forgotten some of the downsides of the region–the hot, dry air that didn’t move; the way sand got into  _ everything,  _ how precious water became, how brutal the sun could be. He had learned that he had to cover up every bit of his fair skin or risk terrible burns. He’d managed to burn the tips of his ears the very first week in Gerudo and was miserable for a week before they healed. 

And he’d met Tasako, a young Gerudo recruit. They had hit it off immediately. He had not met a woman before who could not just hold her own, but best him at combat; and she brought him to yield quickly and easily. They were sparring partners for months before he could finally beat her, and he had bought the drinks that night at the one tavern that had seating outside the city proper. They had been three or four in before he had stared at her a little too long and he really didn’t recall the sequence of events that ended with him waking up with her in a room above the tavern the next morning. They had been together the rest of his time there, parting amicably, both recognizing the enlisted soldier in the other. She had set the tone for him on so many things, and he was happy to see her in whatever the equivalent of the Gerudo Royal Guard was later that day when his party was formally introduced to the Gerudo Chief. She had raised an eyebrow at him in recognition, and he gave her a smile back. It was good to see a familiar face.

He managed to get a message to her to meet for dinner and drinks at the tavern. She arrived as he was enjoying the sunset.

“Ah, it is so good to see you, Tasako, you have no idea.” He embraces the tall woman fiercely, and she returns his affection.

“Link, what are you doing here? I have heard bits of this story and it sounds insane. You have a magic sword now?”

“Yes. The Sword that Seals the Darkness, the Blade Of Evil’s Bane. It has many names and if you’re lucky, I’ll let you gaze upon it later–oh goddesses, that sounds bad.” He is suddenly embarrassed, but she just laughs. Hylians have more shame than necessary, he thinks.

“It’s good to see you, old friend. You’re buying.”

He did, and they spent the evening catching up and telling stories. She’d gotten married at some point and had a teenage daughter. He pulled the sword out and laid it across the table at some point for her to marvel over and make a few double entendres about. They laughed and were loud well into the night. 

He is only two drinks in-he hasn’t been able handle what he could in his twenties for a while-but it’s enough to loosen him up a bit, and he tells her about the night he went stargazing with Zelda on the edge of the desert. She shifts to being more serious immediately.

“Are you in love with your queen, now?” She sounds a little incredulous.

He feels himself flush. “What? Ah, no, I don’t ah. No. Maybe? I don’t know.”

“You don’t know.” She laughs. 

“ _ Tas _ , this isn’t funny.” He shifts in his chair. “I have all these feelings and I don’t know what to do about them. This feels different somehow.”

“Different how?”

He doesn’t have an answer. He just gives his head a shake and stares into his empty glass, wondering if he should get another, knowing it’s probably a bad idea. 

“If you have some school yard crush, you should just push past it, Link. No one has time for that.” She is serious again. “But if it’s deeper, you should talk to her. I don’t know about whatever these stories are about the sword you hold are on the Hylian side–we tell them differently in Gerudo–but if you two are fated to be together, then maybe you should be together.”

The light tone of the evening is gone. He rests his hand on his chin and looks at her across the table. She crosses her arms and meets his gaze. “Mortals love in more different ways, and more deeply than gods ever do. Maybe that’s part of the formula.” she offers.

This is maybe more than he is ready to think about. It’s one thing to worry over his typical romances. The idea that destiny and fate are pushing things is almost too much. He feels what he feels. “I think I’m going to bed. This is making my head hurt and we have meetings tomorrow.”

“Go nurse your pretty head then, I’ll see you there.”

He doesn’t sleep very much and when he does, he is working his way through variations of the prison in the desert. He only gets as far as unlocking the final door each time. He finally gives up before sunrise and works out his frustrations with the sword in private. He feels worn when he is done, and not particularly looking forward to spending the day in discussions about where he might be sent off to next, but he had asked to be part of these conversations. 

He regrets that request later. They don’t drink coffee in Gerudo. It’s all tea, and even when he brews it until it’s bitter, it’s not helping him focus on anything. He tries to look attentive while Zelda and Impa negotiate and gather information, but his understanding of the discussions is pretty basic. Of course there’s some wreckage out in the desert that’s haunted. There might be several haunted wrecks in the desert. Of course no one goes near any of them.

Some past hero is reminding him that Ganondorf took the form of a male Gerudo. He has long wondered about the apparent lack of men among the people of the desert, but also decided he just wasn’t smart enough to deal with any theories about them. It doesn’t feel like it’s time for a final show down though. He is tired, physically, emotionally and he is ready for all of this to be done so he can go be retired.

“Link? Link? Do you want to weigh in on this?” It’s Impa’s voice that finally pushes through his thoughts. He pulls himself into the present, and everyone at the table-Impa, the Gerudo Chief, the guards and Zelda-are staring at him. He wonders how long they’re been trying to get his attention. 

“I’m sorry. I have not been sleeping well, and I’ve had a lot on my mind. I should have been paying attention.”

No one says anything. They just continue to stare. He closes his eyes and sighs. “Were any of these places a prison?”

************

As it turned out, yes, one of those haunted wrecks in the desert had been a prison. Six months ago, it would have seemed unthinkable to make plans based on scraps of dreams, but six months ago seemed like another lifetime. In his head, it’s been longer than six months-he has no idea how long he was in the Lost Woods. But he has directions, rough ones, to get to the wreck in question, and he has supplies, and it’s time to head out again.

He has one thing to do first. If he doesn’t do it before he goes, he might never do it. He meets with Zelda in an office in the barracks.

“Zelda. If I may talk freely, I would like to discuss the night before we made it to Gerudo.” He hopes he appears cool, because inside he isn’t. Inside he feels a tide of anxiety rising. 

She says nothing for a long moment before agreeing. “Yes, we should.” Like that, she has served the conversation back to him. He has no idea where she might stand.

He swallows. “I think, ah. We both know we are entangled on some deeper level. Maybe we are supposed to have feelings for each other?” He suddenly feels naked. “When I first saw you, I felt something. I was so overwhelmed at the time with all that was going on in my head then, that I wrote it off. But I wonder now.”

“Link,” her voice is soft and kind. “We have the fate of Hyrule to protect.”

“Yes. That is what brings us together. Fate and all, parts of the same puzzle. But don’t you ever wonder why goddesses and fates seem to need to work though living people? What can we do that they can’t?” He ran a hand through his hair. These were big concepts for him. “What if being human is what makes this successful? Otherwise, why do they need us?”

“We were the people we were first. We are still who we are, we should still be who we are and I think part of who I am wants to be with you. I think we are supposed to be together?”

“I think you feel these things, too, Zelda.”

He folds his hands in his lap and he waits for her to respond. He forces himself to keep his eyes on her, when he’d much rather look away. 

“That is a lot to think about,” she finally says. “Link, I care about you. I care about you quite a bit. There is a lot at stake here, and we are both old enough. Old enough to ignore distractions like this. Yes, there seems to be something between us. This isn’t the time for it.”

_ She is right, of course. _ But he was hoping to hear something different. 

“And before you ask, I don’t know if there will be time for it, we need to get beyond this right now.”

He feels knots on his insides, but he thinks he sounds more measured. “Thank you, Zelda.” He makes himself walk out and decides to see if he can get someone from the Gerudo guard to spar with him. 

********

He thinks back on that conversation as he stands on a large, flat chunk of sandstone, taking in the place that holds the next step in this journey. Another rotting ruin. Another monster at its heart. Another prize to collect. He wonders why he needs to be in this role, but the sword no longer seems to be taking that question. 

If the last two dungeons he had to find had been little more than a hole in the ground, this one is a proper ruin. It is several stories high, and there’s a wide marble staircase leading to the entryway; flanked with broken columns. Sand has drifted onto the stairs and worn the carvings on the sides of the structure, making them unreadable. It must have been a colosseum at some point, though he’d been led to believe it had been a penitentiary for high profile prisoners. Had trials and executions been public? Small wonder the place was haunted. It is such a big, imposing place. He hopes he can find the map quickly.

It also looks so much like the place he has been dreaming about since he has arrived. He feels confident he may already know some of the surprises inside, but remembers the beast in the River Temple.

And he remembers he won.

He starts up the steps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have much to say. Something I was very much looking forward to got cancelled, and I was expecting it, and its still so very very sad for me. So I worked on this instead.


	14. The Desert Ruin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Into the desert for a peek at the end game.

He stands at the top of the steps. The floor has collapsed, but he thought he knew that. It isn’t  _ exactly _ as he’s seen it in his dreams. It’s in worse shape; with parts of the ceiling caved in, places blocked off. He’ll need to do some improvisation.

The sand on the floor almost seems to be flowing. He expected that. There are stone platforms spaced about and he knows that they will sink under his weight. He knows that the sand will eventually swallow him if he simply tries to cross it. He will have to plan his route well, and execute it quickly if he is to get deeper into the ruin. 

He plans. He darts between the platforms and makes it to a more solid part of the floor, panting and feeling a twinge in his left leg. This isn’t going to be kind to him, and he will need to take care as he proceeds. 

He finds the next passage he needs. It's dark. He thinks he hears a soft ( _ tinkle of broken glass _ ) clicking sound, bone on bone, maybe, coming from its depths. As quietly as he can, he draws the sword and takes a breath. If this is like his dreams, this place is full of dead things that lurch and hunt. He plunges into the passageway, swinging the blade. He feels it connect more than once, knocking stal monsters to one side or the other. He pushes through them, hoping he hasn’t picked a dead end, and that eventually there’s an end to them. When he finds a connecting passage, something urges him to take it; and to be aware of the shifting sand on the floor. He darts his way across the sand that wants to drag him down to the stone platforms that will only bear him a moment and finally ends in a room with a solid floor. And a wooden chest. 

He is confused by what he found inside. Some sort of armor? A weapon? Both? It seemed like a metal tube with a handle inside and chain wrapped around inside as well. There was a three pronged hook-like claw at the end. He’d never seen anything like it and had no idea what to make of it.

_ (That’s the hookshot the clawshot) _

There seemed to be some excitement over this discovery, voices overlapping as it’s named, though it wasn’t really clear why. He hooked it onto his belt and started planning his next move. Surely there was a map nearby. 

He works his way through the passages, darting over shifting sand when needed, stopping to rest when his leg has had enough for the moment. There are dead things to fight through sometimes, stals and even an actual redead or three. There’s also time to think about where he’s been and where he seems to be going. He realizes he is starting to feel angry about things as they are and enjoys exploring that emotion. It’s unfair he is carrying this burden when all he ever really wanted was just to continue to trundle along. Yes. Unfair. 

He continues on, lashing out at the undead in his path with renewed vigor; and he finds his map and a key of old, polished bone. The keys have all been such lovely things, this one is no exception. The head is intricate and delicately carved, slightly yellow with age. He wonders who made these keys and locked up the nightmares with them. He already knows the why. 

As he works his way in deeper, closer to heart of the maze, he finds he needs to stop. Emotionally, physically, he is exhausted and he should sleep before taking on whatever the final challenge might be. He takes care finding as safe a place as possible. He hasn’t slept well since they arrived in the desert. He finally finds a raised alcove in an empty hallway that he can tuck into. The dead don’t seem to roam this particular passage and once he is satisfied with that, he rests. 

He thinks he is awake when she calls his name and he wonders what she is doing here. He doesn’t quite see her- he can’t make out her face, and he isn’t sure if she is his Zelda or not. She is wearing a white dress that flows around her like water and she is haloed in light. He asks her what she wants from him. She does not answer him, but she seems so kind and gentle and so very worried. She reaches out to touch his face, but never connects and he wakes up, confused and agitated. 

He takes the bone key from his pack and studies it again. Maybe it's been carved from a single femur from some huge creature, and maybe it's been cleverly pieced together. It is old, and its surface has been rubbed smooth and shiny. Time to go find the lock for it. It should be close. 

There are a few more twists and turns, and he finds the room with a lock made of bone. There’s a skeletal creature picked out in bone decorating the door. A stal, then. A big one, but still a stal. The key turns in the lock easily, and he steps through the door, waiting to hear it slam down behind him...and it doesn’t. He turns to face the door, and...nothing.

Well.

He surveys the room, trying to figure out why the pattern has fallen apart. There’s some sort of lock in the center of the floor, but its huge. He found nothing that might fit in it, and on closer inspection it appears so full of sand it might not turn anyway.

Now what?

He closes his eyes and turns his face upwards, shoulders slumped, heaving a deep, frustrated sigh. He tries to settle his mind and figure out what to do next. When he opens his eyes, he spots an opening in the wall far above his head. How to get there.

_ (the hookshot the hookshot use that) _

Curious, he takes the device off his belt. There’s a hand hold inside it. The excited swirls in his head suggest that he should aim this thing at something and it will help him get there somehow. He tests it out by pointing it back at the door he’d come through. He squeezes his fingers on the handle to trigger it.

_ FOOM _ the claw fires across the room and grabs onto the door frame.

He barely registers that it's fired when he is jerked off his feet, his shoulder nearly yanked from his body and being dragged across the room as the chain pulls him in. He runs, stumbling, before he gets hurt.  _ Okay then. _

He looks back up at the opening in the wall, frowning. It’s not going to be a fun ride up. 

He experiments with aiming the hookshot a few times on level ground before thinking he might be able to fire it at the right spot on that opening. There was some sort of metal railing set into the wall, that might be the right spot to latch onto. 

Finally, he picks out a spot that will land him close enough to the opening high up on the wall and allow him to swing inside to see what lurks there. He switches the device to his left arm and aims. He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes and gives his head a single slow shake before squeezing the handle.

_ FOOM _

He feels the claw connect and he is  _ jerked _ into the air, muscle and tendons in his shoulder painfully stretching, threatening to snap. In seconds he abruptly stops, claw still dug onto the railing on the wall, his feet on the wall. The opening is to his right and it’s close enough he should be able to swing over and inside. It takes a few tries, but he finally makes it in, disengaging the hook shot without losing it. It’s an awkward entrance. His left shoulder is on fire, and he knows he’ll barely be able to use it. He stumbles, but is on his feet again quickly.

And then bars slam down behind him. Here it is, then.

The chamber is a huge circular room with what seems to be a pit in the center. There’s a walkway around this pit that is barely large enough for one person to navigate. There is a skeleton in the pit, but it’s nothing like he has ever seen before. The skull alone is the size of a horse, and the spine and forelegs are proportional to it. There’s a rib cage that could house a small family, and then the spine trails off. Either this creature lacks hind limbs or they have gone missing. 

Maybe this is the dragon he’s been expecting. 

He takes a step toward it, shield and sword at the ready but the skeleton remains quiet. He slowly approaches, waiting for the tiniest bit of motion. He gets right to the edge of the pit and the skeleton has not moved. Has this beast died on its own and whoever set the trial up failed to notice?

He leans forward, just a bit, to study what is before him. Half of a gigantic skeletal creature. Floor apparently hard ground, he seems to think it should have been sand. A metal rail around the edge, twisted and broken on the far side. Should he drop into the pit? How to do that safely? He looks across to the broken rail and thinks he can use that to make the drop shorter and safer. He could always use the hookshot to get back up, though his shoulder already regrets that idea. He starts along the walkway, and eases himself over the edge, using the metal railing that trails toward the floor to brace himself against the side of the pit and slowly lower himself to the floor.

As soon as his feet touch the floor, the ground rumbles and the skeleton animates, shaking itself and rising on the forelimbs. The bones click and clack against each other as the dragon like skull swings around to face him.

_ It has no eyes why does it need to look? _

The head is too high off the ground to consider striking, he feels he should go after that bit of the spine that is dragging on the floor. He starts in and there’s a stal blocking his way. Annoyed, he knocks it out of his path and pushes forward, trying to get around to the end of the skeletal beast before its head finds him. Stals seem to rise out of the ground and he suddenly thinks this may be a bigger challenge than he anticipated. Quickly, he brings the sword down on the spine and the last two vertebrae fracture off. The skull cries out ( _ how _ ) and the front of the monster drops to the ground. Surely that’s a cue to go get it.

Or it would be if he did not have a half dozen stals around him, eager to grab at him and tear him apart. With a frustrated grunt, he throws himself into a spin, striking everything in a circle around him, reducing stals to piles of bone. The beast raises its head, giving it a shake as though stunned so he turns back give its spine another slash. Another vertebra breaks off but he’s already moved on, slamming a stal with the shield and grimacing as his shoulder takes the shock. He gets to the huge skull on the ground and blindly slashes at it until it begins to quiver and rise again. As he backs off it, he spots a red diamond, the size of his palm, between the eye sockets. Such a tiny target, but it must be where he should strike. He moves his shield forward, ready to block stals and turns to go back toward the end of the beast and comes face to face with a redead. The split second he takes to realize this is a little too long as the thing shrieks and his mind grinds to a halt, paralyzed, as the thing raises its own sword against him. Time slows as the blow swings down, catching the shield and tearing the tunic across his abdomen. He hits the floor and things begin to move at their normal pace again. A rush of adrenaline powers him up off the floor and he puts everything he has into a swing of the sword into the redead’s neck before it can shriek again. The head hits the floor and rolls as he dashes to take another slash at end of the spine. He scores and he dashes back toward the skull, focused on that tiny target, ignoring the burn across his belly and his shoulder screaming in protest. He scrambles on top of the skull and his left leg twinges. He grunts and takes the sword hilt in both hands, driving it home in an over handed swing. 

The sword quivers in his hands, but the skull stays down. The rest of the undead in the room collapse. He is panting and bleeding, but there’s still a tension in the air, low grade electricity, ready to crackle and flash. This is somehow not over yet. His exhaustion and pain slowly turn to fury. Why can’t this be straight forward?

_ Why? _

“Hylia, have you tired of sending children in your stead? Are you sending an  _ old man _ in your name now?”

The voice has a smokey texture to it he didn’t hear in his dreams. He swivels his head, looking for the source. He has done this before, and he knows what is next. He wrenches the sword out of the skull, and slides to the floor.

He is ready. 

“Who do you think you are? Do you  _ really _ think you are worthy of that tunic you wear?”

He snarls “You can decide after we dance.  _ Let’s go _ .”

There’s a throaty laugh in response. Link stands his ground, relaxing his hips and knees in preparation to fight. He rolls his right wrist, giving the Master Sword a showy flip. The blade is glowing and he can feel a low  _ thrum _ through his arm. He hears the faint sound of glass breaking somewhere.

“Not today, old man. Not today.” 

“ _ But soon. _ ”

And like that, the presence is gone, and it’s just him and a giant pile of dead bone. He thinks there’s a flash of light on the corner of his vision and when he turns to it, there’s a wooden box that he is sure was not there before. Inside that; the red, heart shaped crystal and an enormous topaz. He scoops them up, pausing as the red crystal restores him. Using the hook shot once more to get out of the pit, he then heads out into the desert night; back to Gerudo.

It’s cold; and the sky is a deep, dark blue, filled with pinpoints of light. He pauses once to look up and name the constellations. The Wind Fish. Aquamentus. Creatures from stories. He catches himself wondering if she is looking up at the night sky and naming the same stars. He pushes on. None of this seems fair, suddenly. 

He is back at the gates at dawn. The guards eye him, wondering how much trouble he is going to be. He feels like a toxic combination of tired and frustrated and angry. He feels like he might be trouble.

He barks at them. “Tell the queen of Hyrule her hero is at the gates for her.”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter where I watched hours of Let's Play videos on YouTube and called it research. It was pretty fun research.
> 
> I love the hookshot. The trouble I would get into if that was available in BOTW.


	15. Song of Storms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riding home from the desert. Things need to change but maybe not like this.

He must be quite a sight. He knows the tunic is torn and bloodstained, even the chain mail gaps open. He is dirty and tired and it’s all been _enough_. 

The Gerudo guard stood firm, locking onto him with a hard stare that he returned. When Zelda finally arrived, she stopped short. “Is everything... _okay_?”

He turned his gaze to her and without breaking it, takes the enormous topaz out of his pack and tosses it to her feet. “I believe that is yours.”

He holds his pose, drawn up as tall as he can manage, shoulders squared, chest out, eyes hard. He feels _feral_. She takes a step back, but does not break his gaze

“Thank you, Link. We will talk about this later, after you have had a chance to rest.” She takes another look at him, and gasps. “Are you injured? Is that your blood?”.

He holds his stare another minute before abruptly turning and stalking off to the barracks in silence. Everyone steps out of his path. No one tries to talk to him. That is fine with him.

The quartermaster met his eyes as he stormed into the barracks. “What do you need, sir?”

“A hot bath and a good bed. And 24 hours of privacy.”

He nods. “I can set you up in a private room. Get the things you need and I’ll have a tub there shortly.”

It’s not much of a room, but there’s a bed and a desk, and enough room for a copper tub he can soak in. Soon it’s filled with scalding hot water; he locks the door, strips down, and gets in. He runs a finger over the new scar across his abdomen, a souvenir from that redead in the desert. He leans forward to run a hand along his back, wondering if there’s a place marking where it broke in the river lands; but he can’t seem to find anything. He leans back against the tub and drops his head back with a sigh, closing his eyes and just letting his mind float. 

Once the water has cooled, he gets out and dries himself off before going to lie down on the bed. There’s a knock at the door he pointedly ignores. Impa calls his name and he ignores that too. Eventually she leaves and he burrows under a blanket and sleeps.

He does not dream this time. Thank the goddesses.

He emerges in time for breakfast the following day, taking his meal alone in a corner of the mess hall. He is halfway through when Impa joins him across the table.

“Are you _spying_ on me? You seem to just show up.”

She smiles. “You’re pretty important, I keep tabs on you. I hope the bath was good.”

He narrows his eyes at her and then turns his attention back to his plate. “I suppose she wants to debrief today.”

She nods, “At your convenience.”

“I got hurt in there. Again.”

“We can talk about that.”

He glances back up at her. “I’m going to go for a walk. _Alone_. Tell your tabs to keep their distance.” 

She nods. “Take care, the sun is already pretty bad.”

He grunts in response and makes himself scarce for the day. Zelda can wait for her debriefing. 

He is up at first light the next day. There’s a knock on his door as he is buttoning his trousers. “It's open,” he calls, irritated. Of course it's Impa.

“Up to debriefing today, or should we go fight first? I got up early so it's still cool out.”

He digs his fingers into his left shoulder. It is still sore from that final ride with the hookshot, but its not his sword arm at least. “Let’s go,” he grabs the sword in the blue and gold scabbard and heads out the door with Impa trailing behind.

Cool is relative in Gerudo. They find a shady spot but by the time they are done, he’s stripped off his shirt and they are both sweating. “You’re definitely stronger than when we first started,” she says, then gestures at the new scar on his abdomen. “What happened?”

He grabs his shirt and pulls it over his head “Redead.”

“ _A what?_ ”

“It was something called a redead.”

“No, I’ve heard of them, but I thought…”

“They were stories? Nothing is stories.” he humphed. “Someday, we will just be stories, too.”

They both take a moment to wipe sand and dust off their respective weapons and sheath them. Link turns to Impa. 

“Don’t you wonder how much control you have here? Does exactly what we do really matter at all here? Like, does it have to be me on this sword?”

Impa looks cautious. “The sword chose you, Link. You’re the only one who can wield it, and it's the only thing that kills Ganon.”

“But it _doesn’t_ kill him. It just puts him away for a while until everyone forgets and then some other unlucky fools go through the cycle again. What’s the point?” he looks out across the sand for a minute. “What if I just said no, right now?”

Impa’s voice is quiet, deadly. “If you say no, you doom everyone you know and everything you love. It's all gone. Your brother, your sister in law, your nephew, your parents, whoever else might have your heart. Gone and done. Is that ok with you? That’s not even where it ends, but you can start there.”

He closes his eyes against her words. It’s painful to even consider the losses she suggests. It wasn’t ok. He sighed. It really wasn’t. “ _Okay_ ,” he says softly, dropping his shoulders. “Okay.”

*****************

He meets with Zelda later, back in the office in the barracks. He can already feel tension when he enters the room. It's as though the air itself is taut and ready to snap. He’s not going to make things better with what he has planned to say. 

“Your majesty, if I may?”

Zelda raises her eyebrows at the title. 

He draws a deep breath. “I would like to put some professionalism back into our relationship. We have become too… _Familiar.”_

 _Oh_ he hates hearing it out loud. 

He stops to compose himself. “I will be addressing you by your title going forward. If we are to have a working relationship, then that is how I would prefer to treat it.”

There’s a quick look of shock across her face. It’s gone in an instant, but he saw it. She takes a little longer to speak than he expects “I.. I do not know how to feel about this request, Link. This seems sudden. Are you okay?”

“I’d prefer that we do not discuss our feelings.” He has spent the last day and a half practicing this, keeping his voice neutral and his face unreadable. He feels his heart sink delivering that line to her. He clenches his jaw against his words.

“If this is what you want.” Her eyes seem soft, though her voice has the careful coolness to it from when they first met.

 _It’s not, it’s_ **_not_ ** _, but-_

“It is.” 

She folds her hands and draws herself back. “Then I’d like your report on the desert.”

He is clinical and emotionally neutral as he details what he found and did in the desert ruins. He doesn’t mention the dream he had. 

He manages to get back into his room before his shoulder slump and his eyes water. He drops his face to his hands and lets the emotion wash over him. He doesn’t have a name for what he feels. He is empty and bottomless. Why did this hurt so much? 

_What have I_ **_done_ ** _?_

Later, he is sitting at the desk, trying to compose a letter to his brother and not getting past the greeting, feeling wrung out, when the orders come down. They leave Gerudo in the morning to head back to the castle to plan the next move. It’s going to be a long ride. He crumples up his letter and tries to decide how he might want to spend what is likely his last night in Gerudo, maybe forever. 

The next morning, he is up on his bay pinto mare. His head is pounding, and his stomach threatens to empty itself with every step his horse takes. He made bad choices for his last night in Gerudo, meeting up with Tas for dinner and that turned into after dinner drinks. Twenty years ago, they would have stayed up all night. He still ended up in bed far too late for this and he is hung over. _Perfect_ for a day's ride in the desert on horseback.

 **_Perfect_ ** _._

The heat keeps the party to a walk, and conversation at a minimum. The mare has a naturally big stride, and he feels bad about keeping a firm hand on her mouth to keep her trailing behind slightly. They aren’t a big group and he isn’t ready to be part of it. He nearly manages to survive the day without speaking to anyone.

Impa catches him after dinner. Camp has been set for the night, and everyone else turned in early. He decided to find a spot to sit and drink water and gaze at the night sky one more time. There’s still a low thud in his skull, and his stomach is still a little sour. When she settles down next to him, he closes his eyes and gathers himself.

“Hey, I thought I’d check on you, you’ve been quiet. Are you okay?”

He turns to face her and wonders how honest he is going to be with her tonight. “Not really.”

“Is it uh- just the hangover, or..?”

“Are there things I do that you don’t know about?”

“It’s easy to see you don’t feel well today. Never mind the injury. Injur _ies_. I know you’ve struggled with other things as well. I hope you know we can talk, still.”

“I appreciate that, Impa, but I am really not in the mood right now.”

She nods and a moment later she leaves. He finds one more constellation- the Ghost Ship- and turns in himself. 

He feels better, physically, the next day. Impa rides up to him early, the little dun horse dancing beneath her. 

“Wanna race? You should see this horse go.”

It’s not really responsible to gallop this early in the trip, when there’s a long way to go. His mare is built more for covering distance comfortably than for speed. But the road is wide and flat here and he just says yes while digging his heels into the mare’s flanks, startling her to a gallop. He is away quickly; despite the mare’s long, slow strides. He stands in his stirrups and leans over her neck, enjoying the wind in his face, alone with the horse until Impa and her little dun come flying up on them and pass them. His mare may have well as been standing still. He brings her back to a walk. Impa jogs a wide circle around them.

“That’s cheating, Link.”

“Challenging me while you are riding _that_ is cheating, I simply leveled the race course, and you still won.”

“How are you today?” She brings her horse next to him. 

He closes his fingers on the reins and the mare marches to a halt. They are far ahead of the rest of the party, and Zelda is riding with a pair of guards. “Mostly okay.” He’s still somewhat guarded. 

“What happened in the desert? I heard your report but I also heard about how you came back. Did something more happen?”

He turns to meet her gaze. “How much of this goes back to her majesty, advisor?”

“Fair enough. I keep her confidences, Link, and I will keep yours.” She extends a hand to shake. He looks down at her hand and back to her face before slowly offering his hand back. “We should probably keep moving, slowly, while we chat.” She gives the dun a nudge and the horse picks up an animated walk that Link’s mare follows. “What’s up?”

“I’m getting weary of being Hylia’s dog. Go here, fetch that. I feel like I have to do everything alone, I have no one I’m allowed to relate to.”

“We’re talking.”

“You haven’t been saddled by fate and legend.” He feels anger rising again. His words become terse. “You think you understand, but you don’t. Look.” He takes his right hand off the reins to show her the faint Triforce on the back. “Unless you’ve got some sort of, I don’t know, divine mark on you somewhere, you really don’t understand this. There’s two other people who understand this and I’m supposed to kill one of them. By the way, I was considering retirement when this happened.”

The mare flicks an ear back, and he feels her shift under him, sensing his rising emotion. He pats her right shoulder. “These things are getting harder to negotiate and I _already_ got killed once.”

Impa remains silent until he’s done. Then softly, tentatively, “It seems that you pushed a third of that triangle away in Gerudo.”

He twists around in his saddle to face her. “Excuse me, now?”

She doesn’t look away. “Link. You need to work with her. Pushing her away is irresponsible.” She chooses her words and tones carefully. “If you have...personal... _feelings_ , we can talk about them and it will be between us.”

He tersely reins his horse in and stretches a hand to the cantle of the saddle, allowing him to twist a bit more to face her as much as he can. “And did she discuss her _personal_ feelings with you already?”

“Link, I can't…”

“ _Oh_ , we’re done.” He kicks the mare into a canter and circles her back to catch the back of their party, lagging behind Zelda and the guards a bit. Zelda tries to make eye contact, but he stonily looks ahead, silently fuming. 

They’ve been talking about him. _What has Zelda told her?_

When they break for the day, he steals off to dance with his blade. He gets lost in the meditation of movement. Stories and legends never deal with the day to day that must go on in between heroics. They don’t mention dealing with other people beyond broad strokes. He wonders what will be remembered when his story gets retold. 

He keeps his own company the rest of the trip. He avoids conversations so he can not say something awkward. Impa and Zelda seem to talk quite a bit. Impa checks in with him every morning, but a curt _I’m ok_ seemed to dissuade her. Sometime he sought her out in the evening to spar, but he made it clear he was not open to conversation afterwards. 

He spends his time thinking. He does not want this duty. He cannot abandon it. He cannot do it alone, and what he is doing now will not work. There is a way through this puzzle but he needs a guide. 

He ponders his options.

The gates of Hyrule castle are in view when he interrupts Impa and Zelda laughing about something. “Impa, if I may, I’d like a word in private.”

“Of course, Link. Excuse me, your highness.”

Zelda nods her off, and Link and a Impa jog on ahead.

“What is it, Link?” She is upbeat, almost cheerful.

“I need your help.” He stops. Impa sits quietly, giving him the space he needs. “I am so angry and frustrated. I feel stuck. I need to move forward, I _want_ to move forward. I don’t really want what is before me, but if I don’t get to choose my fate, I want to get on with it.”

The white haired woman smiles. “Ok. Let’s meet in the morning. Rest tonight, we will have work to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I've got a schedule for myself where I'll be posting on a regular weekly thing. I'm posting this more or less as I go because damn the torpedoes. Hope you enjoy, I really appreciate all the comments. Thank you for them!


	16. Tossing and Turning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Refocusing priorities. What you want may not be what you need.

The next day, Link and Impa are slowly wandering the castle gardens. The roses are in bloom and bees lazily tumble between flowers. 

_I want to set ground rules,_ she’d said before they entered the garden. _I will not judge you for anything you tell me in here. I will not tell Zelda anything we talk about. What you say here stays here._

They made a circle around a koi pond in the center of the garden before he stopped and sat down on a marble bench. She sat next to him and simply waited. He closed his eyes and swallowed, gathering thoughts, judging how much he should say. 

“I don’t know how to say any of this.” It’s a start, at least.

Impa says nothing, and continues looking straight ahead, but her hand finds his wrist.

“I like being _with_ another person. I thought I loved one or two, but what I feel right now is _different_. I wonder now if I ever did...”

He goes quiet, considering his words. 

“It is so much _more_ . Every time I see her. I think about her without meaning to. I _dream_ about her. I have never felt anything like this. Much more intense. I think it’s as much a part of this cycle as this.” He holds up his right hand, the triforce faint, but there.

He sighs. “I was hurt. I thought it would help, so I pushed her back, but it was a bad idea. I am _sure_ she feels what I do... Pretty sure. I wish I had not but I do not know how to resolve this.” 

“I’m sorry doesn’t seem to be the right thing to say, Link. It’s good to love but you both need to be in the same boat.”

“I think she is,” he whispers, thinking about her hand in his hair and how she took his hand under the stars. 

_Is this a bad idea?_

“Maybe, but you’re on different decks. She has turned you away?”

He gives a small nod, unable to give that answer voice

“I’m sorry, I know it hurts.” 

They sit in silence for a long time. 

“Men often think that the only way to love is romantically,” Impa suddenly says. “There are so many other ways to love people. She said no to one, you need to respect that. You can still find a way to work without being emotionless.”

“If she feels the way I do, why should we not act on this, though? We were both brought here by outside forces. Neither of us chose this. What if. What if.” It’s hard putting his thoughts into the right words. “It’s just. The base of the triangle holds it together. Those pieces are together.” 

“There are other ways to be together and you need to consider those. Friendship can be very deep and intimate, and I do not think men ever see that. You think it’s a poor consolation prize when it can be even better than the thing you think you want so badly. Try being her friend. You both need a friend. You’re both in a unique position to understand each other. Try it.” 

He stares ahead, blank.

“I have an intimate friendship with Zelda. That word isn’t exclusive to being physical. It means other things.” 

“I cannot just stop how I feel.”

“No. But you don’t need to _act_ on how you feel. Maybe she does feel the same but she has told you no, for whatever her reasons are. Find a way.”

“I’m sorry, I really am, Link, I know it hurts. Think on this, please.”

She gets up and leaves. He stays on the marble bench and watches the koi swim until the light grows low in the sky. 

He spends a week thinking on it. He dances with the Master Sword before dawn most days, though once he decides to take to the yard at midday, because he knows he’ll draw a crowd. He works in silence that time, aside from whatever grunts get worked out in a swing. When he is done that day, he waves to his spectators and walks out of the yard via the guards chambers, ignoring calls of his name. Maybe he did it for vanity’s sake, but it feels good anyway. 

In the afternoons he rides. Some of the war horses are trained in the ancient airs above ground, which are terrifying in battle, but also haven’t been needed in a very long time and are now mostly for show. He hopes that eventually the riding master will let him sit on one of them and try the maneuvers; but for now, it seems, he should work on pirouettes and mastering the piaffe. It's subtle work and engages his mind more than he thought.

One of the perks of being the Hero of Hyrule is not only a private room, but one with a balcony. He likes to take coffee and breakfast there after working with the sword and watch the early morning light play out of the grounds. It is there, a week or so after walking the gardens with Impa, that he decides it is time to step forward.

He manages to squeeze in a meeting with her in the early afternoon, in her office. She watches him a little carefully as he takes a seat and greets her formally. “Your majesty,”

“Sir Link,”

There’s a little sting at the title. 

“I am here to apologise. I was protecting myself, or trying to. I think I hurt you instead, and maybe our mission. I was selfish. I am sorry.

“I also would like to try and be your friend. I would like to go back to just Link for you, if I may.”

If he had to be careful where he stepped in the desert ruins, he is doubly so here. It seems so treacherous. She is so quiet. He resists filling the void and waits, meeting her gaze with what he hopes in an earnest expression. 

“I think we can be friends,” she says finally. “I accept your apology, Link, and I hope that I can go back to being Zelda for you.”

_You will always be my Zelda._ He smiles. This is better. He just says yes. 

“If we are to try and get things back to whatever normal is,” she smiles as she speaks, “Then you can join Impa and I over dinner as we try to figure out where to find the last portal stone.”

_Where to– What?_

“I- ah, I thought that was at the Isle of Illusion?”

“Yes; no one has ever heard of that, or has any idea where it might be. We’ve been researching it since you gave us the name.”

*****************

What he learned over dinner was that there was a lot of a Hyrule he’d never heard of before, never mind seen. He had thought of himself as well traveled, too. They poured over place names and significant locations across the huge map that had been hung on the wall in the Queen’s dining room. Nothing seemed to match up well. Link hoped he was not in for a tour of the entire continent looking for this last place. He mostly sat with a mug of coffee and tried to pay attention. He was ready when Impa asked for his input this time.

“I never had a head for all of this but I don’t know; if there isn’t a place on a map, maybe look at stories?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve encountered things I only thought existed on stained glass in the Temple of Time. Maybe this place is like a Temple Guardian or a redead. I don’t know, this is the sort of thing I’d ask my brother; he might know. Surely there must be some expert here?”

“That’s an interesting thought,” Impa sits back in her chair, and rests her chin on her hand, frowning a bit. “Maybe it’s an old name. Or maybe it doesn’t always exist. I’m going to work on this overnight. We’ll meet at mid morning tomorrow?”

It takes another week before a lead is found. Somewhere deep in the library, someone found a reference to some past hero who saved Hyrule and then went off and got himself shipwrecked somewhere that may have just been a dream. Or not. The name of the place was Koholint Island.

Which still didn’t exist. 

Link had heard of the Windfish as a constellation. It had just been a word. It was somehow related to the story of Koholint Island, but the details had long been lost. If the story were true, it seemed the Master Sword hadn’t figured into it.

The next day, the castle cartographer reports that there _was_ a Koholint Rock; off a small island near Lurelin. It was barely a local landmark. Link was sure he had not heard of it during his time there. It seemed like such thin evidence...but he dreamed about the desert, hadn’t he?

That’s how, a few days later, he found himself back on the porch of the Lurelin barracks sharing a stout with Mikal and watching the sun set.

“Traveling with the Queen. You have moved up in the world, Link.”

“I’ve moved somewhere, for sure.”

“Still feeling doubts about your sword?”

“Sometimes.” 

“Celia had a little boy.”

“That’s nice, I’m happy for her.” He felt nothing, his voice flat. “Mikal, you’ve been here a long time. Have you ever heard of a place called Koholint Rock?”

“It’s hardly a place. It barely sticks out of the water in high tide.”

“But it is a named place?”

“Literally a rock sticking out of the water. It’s a big rock. But it’s a bare rock. Look.” Mikal points to a dark spot on the horizon. “Do you see that little island that is pretty much just a peak out there? That’s called Eventide and Koholint Rock sits off the side of it. It’s pretty much a wave breaker for the island. Why?”

“I’m going there tomorrow.”

“There’s nothing on that island except a bunch of moblins and maybe a Hinox, if the locals' stories are true.”

“I’m beginning to think all stories are true. Maybe I need to kill a Hinox.” He hoped not.

“Maybe you do.”

They watch the waves roll and the sea turn red. 

Despite living in Lurelin for a few years, Link had not ever been particularly keen about boating. He certainly wasn’t going alone, at least not across the water. Impa offered to join him for the trip and by mid morning they were sailing toward Eventide, Impa steering and directing Link on what rope to hold to capture the breeze in the right way. He wondered where she learned to sail. She’d just shrugged when asked.

At least she wasn’t asking how he was on this trip.

Eventide turned out to be pretty deserted except for a few goats. They found Koholint Rock easily and neither were impressed. It was just a big bare rock on the eastern edge of the island. It had a very small tidal pool on the top with exactly three snails in it. Impa took off her boots, and sat on the edge of the pool, feet in the water, arms crossed over her knees.

“Do you see anything that suggests this is the right place?”

He peered into the clear water around the great rock, looking for anything that might be a clue. Nothing but coral and fish. He shook his head and looked out on the water at the horizon. He lost himself in the sound of water lapping up to the rock, and gulls calling overhead. Impa eventually broke the silence.

“How are you doing?”

He closed his eyes and stifled a sigh. At least she had waited until they had landed. 

“I’m ok.”

“How is it with Zelda?”

How was it with Zelda, indeed. He guessed it was ok. He had been making sure to not spend too much time alone with her, because it was difficult to do so. He still caught himself watching her. He still wondered what it would be like to hold her, but he tried to not let that show. 

Maybe it wasn’t ok.

“Fine, I think we’re being friends.” He shrugs. 

Impa turned to look at him, but didn’t press. 

They camp on the beach and spend another day exploring, but there’s really not that much, and it seems to be a dead end. And then Impa has a notion.

“What if you need to be here alone? The other Link washed up alone, right?”

“I have no idea, I don’t know that story.”

“I’m going to go back to Lurelin. I’ll come back for you tomorrow.”

He doesn’t like the idea. At all. But there’s no talking the Sheikah woman out of it and within the hour he is watching her sail off alone. He decides to take a nap on the beach and make the most of a pretty day. 

He wakes up as the sun is just starting to set. The day has gone from calm and sunny to promising a storm. He was struck by an urge to go stand on the rock as the winds rose and the air pressure dropped. He looked out at the choppy water. It wasn’t a very long swim, sure, but what was the current doing under the whitecaps? Dark clouds were slowly rolling in, ominous and heavy. 

He walked to the water’s edge to estimate how long it might take to get to the flat rock with its tidal pool. And then he stepped forward, wading out until he had to kick off to swim, marveling that the chain mail didn’t somehow drag him to the bottom. He dragged himself up onto Koholint Rock as the storm arrived, kicking up waves and making the hair on his arms stand up. A flash of lightning split the sky and thunder rolled behind it. He felt small and lost in the display. 

_What am I doing?_

The rock shifts beneath his feet. The water on the seaward side roils and a stone structure slowly rises from the depths. It’s glossy blue green stone that seems to shine faintly, reminding him of the palace in the Zora Domain. It is sculpted to look like an enormous fish with its open mouth the entryway.

Here it is, then.

He turns to look back at Eventide, and further off to the faint lights of Lurelin; hoping he will see them again before he walks into the fish’s mouth. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sleepers wake  
> Dreams will fade  
> Although we cling fast  
> Was it real?  
> What we saw?  
> I believe  
> Lost in dreams  
> We sleep on  
> Tossing and turning  
> Stay with me  
> By my side  
> Never leave  
> What if the worst comes?  
> If someday this sweet reverie ends  
> We too  
> Our memories  
> For real  
> Fade us by  
> Dream with me  
> By the sea  
> We watch the waves crash  
> Hold my hand  
> Think of me  
> And I'll fly
> 
> -official English lyrics, The Ballad of the Windfish


	17. Koholint Rock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once more into the dark.

The entryway smells like salt, and it’s damp. Instead of steps leading down, there’s a ramp with a gentle slope. The flooring has a texture to it, he won’t slip on the way down. Torches flicker in brass sconces; as he walks down the ramp, fog swirls around his ankles and he thinks he hears a faint melody. He doesn’t recognize the song, but it’s pretty. 

_Zelda might like it_. He stops, wondering if this thought oversteps his new boundaries and decides that friends would make these sorts of notes.

The dungeon at Koholint Rock seems different from the others he has wandered. It's quiet, nearly peaceful most of the time. It's easier on him physically. There’s nothing to slip or slide on. He doesn’t need to try and use the hookshot for anything. There is nothing to fight. He nearly trips over the chest with the key in it. The key isn’t very remarkable. It’s just a black iron key. The others have been so obviously special, he wonders why this one is so plain.

He follows the melody as it slowly grows louder as he gets deeper in the dungeon. The torches light mosaics on the walls, and they seem to be scenes from his life. Here he is on his first pony, his father teaching him to ride. Playing kissing games with the village girls behind the barn. Unsuccessfully hauling on the hilt of a sword with an oddly flipped cross guard. Being thrown from a horse that had been clubbed by a moblin. Meeting the queen with that odd sword on his back. There’s a six legged spider with one giant eye menacing him. When he finds the image of the blue long necked sea turtle with the studded shell he stops and touches the creature on the mosaic. The sound of the glass is faint, but it’s there. 

_I killed you last._

He continues on. The last mosaic he finds is of him standing on Koholint Rock, facing a structure sculpted to look like a giant, open mouthed fish. After that, the walls are simply tiled in dark blue, his future apparently still unwritten. 

Maybe his fate isn’t set in stone then. He smiles at his own small joke. 

He has stopped to rest before opening that final door before; but when he finds the heart of Koholint Rock, he doesn’t feel the need. He feels he should just open it and plunge forward. 

The door is a plain wooden door, with a very ordinary looking iron lock. There is no decoration on the door to suggest what might be behind it. Sliding the key into the lock and giving it a turn, he feels tumblers move and the door swings open. He expects the seemingly empty room, but not the sudden foreboding. Something is not right, and he hesitates before crossing the threshold. 

Had he thought the room was empty? There’s a pedestal in the center, so very similar to the one he drew the Master Sword from a lifetime ago in the Temple of Time. Had it been there and he somehow missed it?

He steps inside the chamber and hears the bars close behind him. His heart rate speeds up and he slowly wraps his fingers around the handle of the sword and draws it while scanning the room. He takes care with each step forward, noting subtle changes to the room as he goes. There’s a beam of soft golden light shining on the pedestal in the center. He thinks he hears a harp picking out the melody he has been hearing the entire time he’s been crawling these passages. 

The voice comes from behind him; soft, velvety. “Welcome, Chosen of Farore.”

He spins to face the bearer, and...it’s _himself_. Sort of. 

He recognizes the facial features, as he has seen them stare back at him in mirrors, but his hair is black, his eyes red. He wears a version of his tunic and hat, but it’s black and his trousers are a pure white tucked into black boots. He even has a sword with the oddly flipped cross guard but in black, with a thin red stripe criss crossing the hilt.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Are you Ganondorf?”

The other man laughs. It’s not the same laugh he heard in the desert. “No, brave one. I’m not.” He takes a step closer. Link takes a step back. The sword has seemed to awaken in these final battles before, why is it so quiet now?

_Are you there?_

Nothing. It seems to be just a sword. A sword with an odd cross guard, but just a sword.

Nothing special.

“Why don’t we take a seat? We have things to discuss. You can put that blade away. Unless you want to...put it _away_.” The man in black gestures to the pedestal in the center of the room.

Link draws himself up and carefully sheaths the sword. Whatever is going on here seems so dangerous. He is supposed to be courage, not wisdom. 

“Very well, then.” He gestures to a table set with two chairs that Link is absolutely _positive_ was not there previously. “Let us sit and talk, brave one. We have so much to discuss.”

“Who are you?”

The man in black smiles. “I am a reflection of you, Link. Let’s talk about this obligation before you. I know you want to talk about that.

“We can discuss Zelda, too. Don’t you want to know what it would be like to have her against you? To feel her heart beat with yours? How her breast might feel in your hand, or your tongue in her mouth?”

Link shuts his eyes and draws a deep breath, hiding the shock he feels at those things being expressed out loud. He _has_ thought about those things, but he told no one; not even Impa has an inkling.

“I thought so.” He’s smiling. “It’s outrageous that you’ve been put into this savior role and you don’t even get a prize out of it, isn’t it? Let’s run it down. Acid burn on your left arm, broken back, nearly had your belly opened up by a redead. Let’s not forget you actually died. You were dead. And you get a kiss on the cheek for it.

“It’s not fair, is it?”

Part of him does not want to listen, but part of him is also _very_ interested in where this is going. _It is_ **_not_ ** _fair._ He opens his eyes and angles his head slightly. 

“I can see you agree with me. You can choose to put that sword down. Just because you picked it up doesn’t mean you need to keep carrying it. If you put it back in that pedestal, it’s like none of this will have happened. It will all be just a bad dream.”

Link looks over at the pedestal. It looks nearly magical, bathed in golden light, dust swirling lazily in the beam. How easy would it be to put it back? Pulling it out hadn’t been easy. He takes a step toward the pedestal. He _could_ put it back. He could. He could just be done with all of this. 

_If you say no, you doom everyone you know and everything you love. It's all gone._

“Don’t listen to Impa. Besides; if you’re dead with everyone else, does it matter? You didn’t choose this, Link.”

He swings his head back toward the man in black, then to the pedestal. He takes another step toward the pedestal. He reaches his right hand overhead, wrapping his fingers around the sword’s hilt and drawing it from the blue and gold scabbard. He takes another step and looks back toward the man in black. The man says nothing. Link tries to read his expression. The man smiles at him.

Link suddenly whirls, blade overhead, both hands on the hilt, and crosses the space where the man sits in three long steps. He brings the sword down into his chest, grunting as he pushes through the chainmail, not stopping until the tip is through his back. He meets the man’s eyes.

“No,” he whispers. “I didn’t choose. I was Chosen.”

The man, the table and the pedestal vanish in a cloud of purple-black smoke. When it clears, the box he is expecting is in their place. He claims his heart and a garnet set in gold. Suddenly very tired, he sits on the floor; he leans back against a wall and closes his eyes, just for a minute. 

******

He wakes up on the beach, Master Sword still in hand, to a gull squawking. He drags himself up, startling the bird into taking off. Every joint he has, even the ones in his spine, it seems, protests as he slowly gets to his feet. He flips the blade skyward, bringing the embossed Triforce to his lips. _You chose me. You chose me for a reason._

**_Yes, master. Our journey together is nearly over._ **

He raises the blade in one hand over his head. He thinks he hears a harp playing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for following along. I appreciate all comments and kudos!
> 
> I’m hoping to stick to updating on Fridays.
> 
> If anyone has suggestions for tagging this appropriately, I’m open for suggestions.


	18. Roads and Tracks (Phase C)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cool down, collect, regroup and prepare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote about eventing once Long form endurance day had a vet check before jogging out to the cross country course.
> 
> Thank you for your feedback, I enjoy reading them. I’m doing a lot better than back in March, and I’ve definitely gotten a few comments that really made my day. Thank you.

Impa finds him the next morning, sitting at a campfire on top of the one hill on the island, looking out on the water.

“You were right,” he says as she takes a seat next to him. “Once I was alone, a storm kicked up and the dungeon, temple, whatever, rose out of the water.”

“Are you ok, were you hurt? It didn’t storm back on the mainland.” She marvels.

He shakes his head. “No, there wasn’t much to fight.”

She sits with him for a moment, watching the sea birds turn and call over the water with him. “How are you inside?”

He leans back on his hands. “I _think_ I’m ok?” He sits in silence for a minute. “It was strange in there. I’m not sure how I got out, I just woke up above the tide line.”

“I have the last of these portal stones.”

She nods. “The next phase begins then.”

He is silent again for a long moment. “Impa, could we just spend the day on the beach here? Another day shouldn’t matter, should it?”

“No,” she says. “We don’t need to go back right away.”

He nods. “Good.”

It’s a good day, calm and sunny. The water is relatively calm, and tiny waves lap on the shore line. Link takes off his boots to walk in the sand of the small beach; he stands at the water’s edge for a while, watching the horizon line. Impa stays nearby, but lets him take the day. It’s midafternoon when he comes and sits by her.

“I was given a choice in there, that’s what was in the final room.” he says suddenly.

She looks to him with a raised eyebrow.

“I was offered a chance to put the sword back. I thought about it.”

“But you didn’t.”

“I didn’t.”

“That’s good, Link.” She is still for a beat. “How was that choice presented?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did you just go in and there was a pedestal for the sword? Was someone asking riddles or making you offers? What exactly happened?”

He shifts a little and meets her gaze for a minute, then looks away. “There was a person who said they were a reflection of me, and he looked like me, except he wore black, and his eyes and hair were the wrong color. He said I could put the sword away and it would be like this was a bad dream.” He rushes this slightly.

Impa’s eyes widen, and she catches her breath. “Did you just say no thanks and leave?”

“Ah, no. Um.” He swallows. “I, um. I ran the sword through him.”

“ _Link._ _You did what?”_

He doesn’t repeat himself, but he does turn his head to look at her.

“You met a creature claiming to be a reflection of yourself and who looked like you who offered you a thing you have expressed to me you want. You ‘thought about it’ and you ‘ran the sword through him.’ Do I have that all right?”

“Yes?” It’s soft, barely above a whisper. He had not really thought of it quite like that.

“You’re _sure_ you’re okay?” 

He turns away again and swallows. “I think I’m ready to go back, I’d like to have a bed tonight.” He put his boots back on and stood up, looking back toward the shoreline. “I always loved it here. This was my favorite place to just be, It’s so pretty and peaceful. I hope I get to come back.”

“I will make sure you come back,” says Impa. He admires her confidence.

“But, Link. We are going to unpack what happened here. I worry about you.”

He nods. “Okay.”

***********

Lurelin is small, and having the Queen in town has created quite the stir. The inn has closed save for the party from the castle and set a table for dinner in her honor, all fresh caught fish and other local delicacies. It’s a good meal, the mood is almost celebratory. He laughs more than he has in a long while, and he forgets the duty strapped to his back for this while.

Afterwards; he is nursing a stout on the barracks porch, still feeling warm and happy from dinner when Zelda takes the seat next to him. They sit quietly in each other’s company and watch the waves roll in.

“Are there… _lights_ in the water?” She finally asks.

“Yes,” he replies. “There are tiny little fish that glow in the dark. This time of year, they come to the surface and close to shore at night, and it makes the waves light up like that.”

“Pretty.”

He nods.

“I confess, I never had time to visit here before now. You were stationed here for a while?”

He nods again. “This is my favorite spot in Hyrule.”

“I can see why.” 

There is silence again, but he thinks it feels comfortable. He does not feel moved to fill it, at least. It’s nice to just sit with her and enjoy being in the moment. After a long while she gets up and places a hand on his left shoulder. 

“I am going to turn in, I’ll see you in the morning.”

He places his right hand over hers for just a moment, looks up to meet her eyes and smiles. 

“Have a good night. This was nice.” She gives his shoulder a brief squeeze and she is gone. He watches the glowing waves roll, afloat on the sound of the water and smell of the salt air, catching a faint note of lilac. 

***********

They debrief next morning over breakfast in a small private room in the barracks before heading back and figuring out the next step. Link takes the garnet out and places it in the center of the table.

“So that’s it, then,” says Zelda, turning the stone over. “The last of them. It really doesn’t look like much.”

“I think I should hold onto this one,” he says. “I don’t think all five of them should be together.”

“Why?”

“Split them up, and there’s less of a chance they get used together out of our control.”

“Sound,” He is pleased with her approval. It’s been a good morning. “You seem to have emerged from this one unscathed? What happened to get to the stone?”

He starts with the storm, and the oddly gentle dungeon, with his life in mosaics on the walls, and ends by simply stating he had been given a choice to renounce his sacred duty but refused.

“When you say you had a choice, what do you mean? It feels like it should have been more complicated, given the other trials you’ve faced.”

His good mood slowly slides away and he feels a bit flustered. Triforce of Wisdom, indeed. “I don’t know if I… has Impa said anything?”

“If you spoke to Impa, no, she has not. What happened?”

“Nothing happened, it was something I did. I.” He closes his eyes. He’d made his decision in the moment, had not really considered what looking into his own face while serving a fatal blow might be like later. It felt right at the time. “Forgive me, Zelda. I can’t right now.”

She reaches across the table to place her hand on his. He grabs it and opens his eyes, meeting hers and taking a deep breath. “It’s ok, Link. You’re ok. Tell me when you are ready. Whenever that might be.” 

“I think I did the right thing, I made the right choice.”

“Link, I’m sorry. Every time I think things can’t get more traumatic for you, it seems like they do.”

He doesn’t know what to say after that. He _had_ chosen well... hadn't he?

******

They are off to a late start after lunch. Link and Impa ride together, ahead of the rest of their small party, leaving the royal guard to escort Zelda. 

“Can we talk about whatever happened at Koholint Rock?”

“We can, but I think I made the right choice.”

“Oh, I think you did, as well. I just worry about _how_ you made that choice.”

“I knew you’d ask about this. I didn’t think about it. I just did what I did.”

“Link, it wasn’t that long ago that you were considering just saying screw it.” He is a little unsettled by the informality, but doesn’t say anything. She continues “I think whatever happened there was all you.”

“Oh, no,” he counters. “He said some terrible things.”

“But they were things you’ve thought?” She shifts in her saddle to look at him. “It’s ok if they were, none of us are perfect and good all the time, Link, we are all human and the goddesses made us imperfect. Even if you’re saddled by fate and legend.”

He remains quiet and fixes his eyes on the road ahead. 

“What did he say, Link?”

It’s another minute before he answers. “He said this was all unfair. What I’m going through.”

“Do you think he was right?”

“Yes.” He feels ashamed with this admission. 

“He, or _you_ , are right; it’s not fair.” He swivels his head toward her. “You’ve been asked to take on so much, and the chosen should just accept that; right? Maybe that happens in stories, but maybe stories don’t mention the doubt and hesitation.”

He cannot believe what he is hearing.

“It’s completely unfair to you, but you’ve still accepted the role you find yourself in; I’m glad you chose to keep the sword and fight with us anyway.”

She sidesteps her mount closer to his so she can reach over and touch his arm. “I’m glad you’re on our side. You’re a good person, Link. I know you’re confused and upset, but you’re a _good_ person. I’m not sure you hear that enough.”

“Thank you, Impa. Maybe you’re right on that.”

“Do you not think you’re a good person?”

“I don’t– I mean,” this is getting uncomfortable, but he decides to push through instead of running this time. “I don’t know. Maybe not. I’m not sure I’ve ever been enough for anyone.” He furrows his brow, unsure where the words came from. “I don’t like to think like this. My life has been fine.”

“Oh, Link.” Impa reins her horse in a bit. “I haven’t known you long, but I do know you’re tough. You are ready to help when you don’t want to. I think you try very hard at the things before you. You should be more gentle with yourself, sometimes.”

“I’m not sure I want to talk anymore right now.” He twists his fingers into his mount’s mane, grabbing a handful _hard_. 

“Then we will stop for now.”

*************

At daybreak, Impa and Link go to cross swords before getting back on the road. They push each other hard this morning, until he finally disarms her and knocks her down.

“Good job,” she says. He offers a hand to pull her up and then sheaths his sword after giving the blade a twirl. 

“Thank you.”

“That flourishy thing you do sometimes, where did you learn it?”

He shrugs. “I didn’t, it sort of came with the sword. I like how it feels.

“Impa, are we friends?”

“What?”

“I’ve been trying to sort things out. I had friends when I was younger, but I moved around so much that I- I lost track of everyone every time, and I’ve never thought about that much. It didn’t seem to matter, really, and I think I forgot how to do it, but I think maybe we are?” He spills this in a rush. “I’m getting tired of being frustrated and alone all the time… it’s hard for me to ask.”

She smiles. “We can be friends, Link. Come here.” She opened up her arms as he steps forward, confused, and gives him an embrace. He feels stiff and awkward but manages to pat her back once before being released. 

  
  



	19. Shifting Gears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The endgame starts to rumble to life

Weeks have gone by, and there’s routine at Hyrule Castle. He gets up at daybreak to swing the sword; sometimes sparring, sometimes just working alone. Sometimes there are meetings over breakfast, sometimes over lunch, and sometimes it’s both. Reports of emboldened monsters attacking villages have been coming in, and it appears the peace in Hyrule Link has known his entire life is at an end. There’s tension in the streets of Castletown, a quiet undercurrent of anxiety swirling in the air, causing simple arguments to blossom into physical altercations. Humor turns darker, and people are less likely to linger on their errands. The halls of the castle are not immune to the mood that seems to frame the days, with staff seemingly more on edge. Link has had to apologize to the chambermaid he runs into almost daily on his way to the yard, as she seems to startle at him every morning. He thinks he has heard the shattering of glass in his mind more frequently, but he is nearly reflexive when he reminds himself that he lived.

Another small town, this one south of Eldin, in the last greenways before the Death Mountain foothills has gone silent. There are similarities to Eppon; rumors of it being busy one day, shattered and silent the next. He isn’t sure if that was the news that sparked the nightmare, or if it was coming anyway; but he wakes up in a sweat, sheets tangled around him, heart pounding, trying to recall the images as it felt prophetic. All he can remember was the overwhelming dread, and an open red sky; and a feeling that for once, he wasn’t facing things alone. 

It was still dark out, but he was done sleeping for the night. He brews a cup of tea, and takes a seat on his balcony. There isn’t much to see, but he can make out lanterns marking paths in the castle gardens from his vantage. 

The gardens. He sighs and sips his tea.

He thinks he’s been making an honest effort to reframe his relationship with Zelda, and he still isn’t sure how it was going. He suggested taking walks together in the garden during the day, as a way to figure each other out. If they were going to be in battle together, they should know each other well, he reasoned and she’d agreed. That first one had been awkward. He felt too warm, and conscious of how he moved around her. If she had any idea of his discomfort, she didn’t let on as they went about the outer perimeter of the garden, discussing the weather and what might be served at lunch. He wasn’t sure he was going to offer again the next day, but at mid-afternoon she had declared the need for a break and asked him to join her. 

Things moved a little more easily day to day after that. Small talk evolved into actual conversation. They shared private jokes. He started to look forward to these breaks. 

And then there was  _ yesterday _ . 

They made their way to the koi pond where Impa and Link had once had a discussion. Zelda took a seat on the marble bench and he joined her. The day was warm and slightly overcast, the air overflowing with the scent of roses; a perfect day to be outside, and a welcome contrast to the discussion of the Eldin village they’d had all morning.

“I love this garden so much.” She tipped her face to the clouds, eyes closed, smiling. “I kissed my husband here for the first time, when we were courting. Well, I suppose it was my first kiss  _ ever _ . I think I was 16. It was this time of year; I remember the roses being in bloom, and it was warm.”

Link is suddenly not sure how much of this story he wants to hear; but she is off in her memory, and not paying him much attention.

“It was early evening, the moon was just starting to rise. Everything was so beautiful and perfect, and he took my chin in his hand and raised it a little and he kissed me.

“And then our chaperone caught up to us.” She laughs at the memory. “We were both lectured on impropriety. It was still nice.” She happily gazes out at the pond; watching the large, slow moving fish with their extravagant fins swirling beneath the surface of the water. 

She hasn’t asked for a response, but he is compelled to fill the silence.

“Mine was very different.” He blurts, immediately regretting this announcement. She turns to him, obviously expecting the story. He plunges ahead. 

“I think I was 14? I had barn chores, but in the summer we kept the horses outside all the time, so there wasn’t as much to do. The older kids would hang out behind the barn late in the day, before dinner. Kagun invited me to come with them one day. I don’t remember whose cousin she was, but she was spending the summer. Her name was Malon.” 

He breaks off for a minute and smiles to himself a little. He hasn’t thought about that summer in a long time. It had been a mostly good one, and it feels good recalling it. Malon, with her auburn hair and green eyes and soft lips. He felt safe and maybe loved with her, she was someone he could just  _ be _ with. Everything was right when he was with Malon.

“I kissed her a lot that summer. Sometimes,” he drops his voice to a scandalized whisper, “Sometimes, we would  _ hold hands _ .”

Zelda laughs behind her hand, and his smile broadens.

“What happened to her?”

His smile freezes. “My dad caught us behind the barn one day. We weren’t even doing anything, just sitting together. He wasn’t happy. I didn’t get a lecture.”

Link has been glad his father hadn’t caught them holding hands or goddesses forbid, kissing. He had doubts he would have lived to tell  _ that _ story.

“She got sent back home pretty quickly after that.”

He steals a glance at her. Her eyes are wide and her hand is over her mouth. He tries to smile a little. “I still kiss girls, Zelda, he didn’t put me off that. Sometimes I even hold hands.”

“Link, that’s  _ awful. _ ”

“I didn’t run off to join the military when I was 16 for no reason, Zelda.”

She drops her hands to her lap and looks him squarely in the eye. “I’m very sorry that happened to you. You didn’t deserve that. You were just a child and you were just being curious. You didn’t deserve to be punished.”

_ You didn’t deserve that. _

Maybe he hadn’t. He wasn’t sure he deserved the nightmares, either. 

The sky starts to lighten on the horizon. Time to start the routines of the day. He finishes his tea, fetches the sword in the blue and gold scabbard and heads to the practice yard. He has loosened up and is flowing through forms when a very agitated Impa arrives.

“I knew you’d be down here. Sorry about the interruption. We are starting early today. Now, in fact. It might be an emergency. We’ll go together.”

“What do you mean, it ‘might be an emergency’? Is everything ok?”

“I don’t know how to answer that right now, we can talk on the way.”

He feels a flash of fear as he sheaths the Sword that Seals the Darkness and jogs after Impa.

They don’t talk on the way, because Impa bumps her pace up to where conversation is impractical. They run through the corridors of the castle to the royal family apartments and to Zelda’s private office, startling staff changing shifts for the day. They arrive a little out of breath, and Link feeling alarmed and very awake. Zelda is already there, apparently pacing the room. She whirls to face them as they enter the office, a flash of worry on her face, gone as soon as he thinks he sees it. He has never seen her so uncomposed. The dread of his dream is upon him.

“Impa said there was an emergency?”

“Link. I had a vision, in the form of a dream.” Her hands fall to her sides and immediately she takes a fistful of the long pink silk skirt she wears. “I was out under an open red sky. The air felt oppressive and full of...of. That power in the air during an electric storm. It felt like that. Whatever I was about to face, I was not doing it alone, but it felt like something terrible was about to happen...are you alright?”

The coldness he felt must show on his face. “I had that same dream tonight.”

Impa suddenly looks grim. “These aren’t dreams,” Her voice is soft and sober. “These are premonitions. You were each present in the other’s dream.”

Link darts his eyes to Impa, and then to Zelda, who is already staring at him. He holds her gaze. The endgame is swirling about them, and there’s still so much he doesn’t know. 

“Do either of you recognize where you were? Think about any details.”

“It was cold,” he says, after a moment. “Not Hebra mountains cold, but cold. Maybe Tabantha cold. No snow, but it felt like it might, the air was heavy, and it smelled like snow.”

“I don’t remember it being cold,” says Zelda. “But it did seem like somewhere very open. A big, wide space.”

“Cold, wide open, red skies. That is not much to go on.” Impa bows her head in thought.

“We found Koholint Rock with less.” mutters Link. He drops his right hand to the pocket in his pants, making sure the garnet he recovered on Koholint is still there. He has kept it on him since returning, determined to keep it from being used against him. 

How had Impa put it? The next phase? His days of pleasant garden walks with Zelda in the afternoons were over. Time for the next phase.

“Zelda. I know you bring magic this battle, but I feel like it’s been vague, at least to me. What form does it take?”

“I have my own weapon,” she says, making a motion as though drawing a bow. As she does so, there’s a crackle to the room that makes the hair on his arms stand up. The air takes a sharp, sweet scent on.  _ Magic _ . An ornate silver bow appears in her hands. Link was not much of an archer, but he feels it looks more decorative than practical, with its half circle shape and delicate filigreed limbs. Is it silver? Maybe it’s a metal folded together with more magic than the blade he pulled from the Temple of Time, maybe it’s not metal at all. The string is difficult to focus on, and he’s not sure if it’s a physical thing or not. 

“It is called the bow of light, and it fires light arrows that I can call at will. I can also temporarily produce a shield, but I need to stay in place to cast and hold it. That takes a lot of concentration and energy, I can only produce and hold it for short periods, and it takes time to recharge.”

“You can use a bow?” He sounds more surprised than he intended.

The way she cocks her head at him, and slightly widens her eyes makes him think he is going to regret the question. 

**********

“This is a ridiculously short distance, Link.”

“Just show me what you can do, this is where everyone starts.”

It was late morning before they got the archery field closed and secured, and targets set up. The archery master, Impa and Zelda’s guard captain watch from the sidelines as Link attempts to direct Zelda. The archery master seemed a bit amused when Link asked her to hit targets from the first mark on the field.

“I can shoot a bow. I used to hunt deer with the king.”

“Please, Zelda, just show me.” He pleads. “I am literally going to be a shield for you.”

She frowns in response and her look tell him he has committed a sin in her eyes. Then she raises the practice bow, takes aim and rapidly nocks and fires three arrows, hitting the center of the target with each one landing in a tight grouping.

The archery master snorts, unable to contain himself. Zelda turns to Link, smiling sweetly. “Did I do ok?”

He slumps just a little. “How far away are you that accurate?”

The archery master answers, “You should roll her back to at least the fourth marker.”

Zelda‘s face softens. “You need to trust me, too, Link.”

***************

He has mostly recovered his dignity when they break for lunch. “It is my job to keep you safe, too. I need to know what you can do. Why would I think you could shoot? Why would you need to learn the bow?”

“Its part of being well rounded. I was quite good when I was younger. I still shoot targets for fun and practice. I really thought this was common knowledge, it certainly is on the archery range.”

“I never made it past that first shooting line. My eyesight wasn’t good enough for a ranged weapon. I was moved to swords very quickly.” He shrugs. “What’s the range on your bow?”

“Probably further than we need. I haven’t tried it much. It seems like a lot of power to call for target shooting.”

“You should try it out. Combat isn’t target practice. A weapon is a partner, and you should practice before taking your partner to a big dance. You should also practice shooting on the move. We’re not going to have a stationary target. Oh, and you should practice with someone near you because I do not want a light arrow in my back at any point.”

She is staring at him again.

“It gets confusing when there are a lot of moving parts. Practice makes you rely less on thinking. It’s why I still practice every day.”

Her face hasn’t changed. He rests his forehead in his hand. “I know; saddled by destiny and fate and blood of the goddess, spirit of the chosen hero and everything we are still human and humans fail sometimes, even with preparation. When this is over, I intend to be the one to put the sword back, personally. Not everyone who has drawn it has done so. This mark on your hand isn’t a guarantee of success.”

“We can still fail.”

Impa has been quietly watching the exchange. “Your majesty, if I may, practicing new skills is never a bad idea; and he suggests a lot of new skills.” She hesitates a moment. “He is correct when he says not every cycle is successful. There are stories, in particular about the Hero of Time, that end badly for Hyrule.”

_ The Hero of Time?  _ This phrase sparks something in the back of his head. “‘Stories’ imply there was more than one, Impa.”

She shakes her head. “There was only one, but he traveled several paths by manipulating the flow of time with a magical ocarina. So. More than one story for him. It is thought he did not always win in the end.”

_ The flow of time is always cruel.  _ It’s been a while since he’s heard something like that in his head

“What’s an ocarina?”

“It’s an ancient musical instrument,” says Impa. “The Ocarina of Time is actually still in the castle, as it’s an heirloom of the royal family, if you want to see it. No one knows how to work it anymore. It seems to do nothing when played now.”

He thinks on this for a minute. “No.” He has enough complications.

******************

Routines move from meetings to the archery range, at least for part of their days. He still makes time to meet with Zelda in the afternoons to tour the gardens when they finish their respective practices. It is where he unwinds and tries to refocus. He assumes this is what she does, as well, as their walks are mostly in comfortable quiet of late. Sometimes she will take his arm and when she does he enjoys the little thrill he feels. Once she took his hand and he hoped she didn’t see the catch in his breath.

Mostly, they are just quiet, taking in the beauty of the garden as the colors change with the season, ignoring the dark that is still working its way toward them.

On the range, Zelda takes aim at moving targets, at first from a fixed point, missing repeatedly until she learns to track them. When she is hitting her targets more often than not, the archery master rigs a blind on wheels with a pulley that she can hide behind and learn to move while shooting. She hits that blind the first several times until she is able to side step with it. Link watches when he can, leaving her instruction to the master; but he tries to be there when she is done. Both to hear about her progress, and learn where she is still frustrated. 

Link continues crossing swords with anyone who is willing to try him, and he slowly works his way through younger and higher ranked swordsmen. He has become better with the blade than he ever was when he was younger and faster. He feels more fluid, his weapon truly part of him. One day he accidentally does a flip to dodge a swing that came too close, just like that day with Sam and the moblin, and when he lands, everyone else has stopped what they were doing to gape at him. He might be ready. Maybe. 

It’s late one afternoon, when Link decides it's time to step in as a live shield for Zelda. She has been hitting targets for hours, moving with the pulley blind nimbly and seemingly following it without thinking. He declares her ready.

She doesn’t agree. “Link, I’m tired and it’s hot, let’s save this for tomorrow.”

“We aren’t going to be able to pick ideal conditions,” he replies. “It’s good to push through being tired sometimes, it will be ok.”

He draws a practice sword and a wooden shield, and puts his back to her. “Just move with me, like you do the blind. And aim over my head.” He half turns his head and smiles to her before calling to the archery master to start the targets. He focuses on the target and shifts to stay in front of it, and almost immediately takes a blunt tipped arrow at close range to his left shoulder. He cries out in pain and surprise, spinning to face her. She has already dropped the wooden bow and her eyes are wide. “ _ Nayru, Din and Farore _ , I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, are you ok, are you hurt?”

He rolls his shoulder back, bites his tongue, and turns away. “It’s fine, I guess I’m glad it wasn’t a light arrow. Maybe we  _ should _ stop here today.” Motion on the sidelines catches his eye. A messenger, out of breath, message tube in hand, running to Impa. He moves his attention to the scene, and Zelda follows him. Impa takes the tube, removes a rolled slip of paper and reads. When she looks up, her eyes find Zelda, and her mouth is pulled tight. It’s not good news on that scrap of paper.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to my beta/editor littledeerling and to everyone who is continuing to follow along. Next one might be a bit delayed, it’s been an odd week.


	20. Preparations

Tabantha Village didn't have the most original name in Hyrule, but it did have a really great cook at its tiny inn. Link had had a lamb stew there he still thought about. And there had been that time the night sky had lit up with bands of green light dancing at the horizon, he hardly believed that had been real. It was cold in Tabantha, and he had found that little village a warm spot on the road.

And now, apparently, it was gone. 

Well, surely, the sky still danced with green light at night sometimes, but that spot in the roof of the inn was gone, and the cook who’d graced its kitchen, and that blonde barmaid with the mismatched eyes at the tavern. And all of it, like Eppon and the town in Eldin. Gone.

This time there had been a single witness in Tabantha who survived and fled to the castle. The village sat on a route to Rito territory, and that inn had a pair of open air rooms that the Rito preferred, making it a stopover for the flighted people as well. One of those rooms had been occupied.

Felmi was young, and towered over most around him. He had gold colored irises, indicating his youth, his pupils pinned down to small points. He boasted beautiful bright green plumage where it wasn’t mottled and picked over. He could be seen pulling on the small feathers over his breast even as he stood before them in Zelda’s office, seemingly unaware he was doing so. 

“I hadn’t gone to sleep yet,” he said. Link had lost count of how many times Felmi repeated that phrase. “I hadn’t gone to sleep yet, or I would not have gotten away. I knew I had to come here to tell you.”

It was difficult to piece the story together. Whatever happened seemed to have happened fast. Felmi spoke of purple black smoke—or maybe it was something else but it  _ looked _ like smoke—erupting in the square; and how it spread quickly, building to building, forcing down doors and smashing windows. It was the screaming that got him airborne, and he was too occupied with getting away to see what caused the roof of the inn to collapse, but he heard the wood gables violently erupting as he fought to get lift. Once he was up he flew to the south east, searching for the castle. He arrived that afternoon, exhausted and terrified, while Link was on his way to the archery range to serve as a living shield for Zelda. 

“If you think you can sleep now,” Zelda offers after the Rito has started to repeat parts of his story. “We can put you up. There’s a room built for Rito over the library.”

Felmi dropped a small green feather to the ground. “I.. would rather not be alone, your majesty. I don’t know if I can sleep.”

“You can sleep on my balcony,” offers Link. “I’ll leave the door open, I’ll just be inside the room.”

The young Rito swung his face toward Link, pupils widening and then pinning again. “That is kind, sir, thank you.”

“It’s probably time for all of us to try and rest,” says Zelda. “Link, take Felmi to your quarters. Impa, if you could stay behind for a moment. We will plan to meet for breakfast just after daybreak. I think we are heading to Tabantha soon.”

Link motions to Felmi, and the tall avianoid follows him. “If you don’t mind me asking—I have,  _ had, _ stayed at that inn. What brought you there?”

The Rito huffs. “I want to be a bard and I was going to see the world. I am not so sure it’s for me, now.”

Link nods. “Adventure is great until you are having one you didn’t intend.”

Felmi mutters in agreement.

********************

Link is up well before dawn. He doesn’t recall his dreams, but they have left him feeling out of his depth and inadequate. Maybe that’s not quite the right word, he thinks. He should be adequate by now, shouldn’t he? He frowns to himself, brewing tea, wondering when he will feel like he is enough.

Felmi is perched on the wide stone railing of his balcony, watching the sky slowly lighten. Link joins him, offering a wide mouthed mug. “I wasn’t sure if you drink tea or not, but I was making some.”

“Thank you, sir.” Link notes small green feathers scattered on the floor. Felmi’s breast has been picked clean in a few spots. “It is very beautiful here. The gardens in particular.”

Link sets the mug on the railing. “You should take a tour, if you’ll be here a bit. Walking the gardens does much to settle the mind. There will be a member of the Royal Guard outside the door, he can escort you if you decide to do that.”

Felmi swings his body down to scoop up the mug in his hands and take a sip. Link has never quite gotten used to the upper limb arrangement on the Rito. “Thank you, sir, perhaps I will.” He shifts his weight slightly and resumes watching the sun rise. 

“Sir, are you going to stop whatever destroyed Tabantha Village?”

“I hope to, Felmi,”  _ Hylia, I hope to. _

The Rito swivels his neck and looks Link in the eye. “I hope you do, too, sir.”

****************

Zelda has coffee and there’s cream to add to it today. Link indulges with a little extra, since this morning he isn't sure when or if he might ever be back at the castle to enjoy a cup of coffee. Small pleasures.

Impa had been busy all night, it seemed, with preparations. This was promising to be a larger entourage into questionable territory, with more moving parts. It was going to be a longer journey with a larger party so the sooner they were ready, the better. She reported back on supplies, which members of the guard had been tapped, how many horses were needed, and specifics on Zelda’s security detail. She was exhaustingly thorough and daybreak had turned into late morning by the time she was done.

Zelda suggests a break, much to Link’s relief. And then, “Link. I’d like you to accompany me. I need some fresh air.”

“The rose garden?”

She nods. “I’d like to watch the koi for a bit.”

When they get to the garden, Zelda takes his arm and leans on him a bit. “This is getting a bit too real.” She offers in a low voice.

It’s been real for him for a long time. Maybe it’s different when this has been on the horizon most of your life. What he says is simply, “Yes, it’s not just stories.”

“Do you wonder what this story will sound like in a thousand years, if they still tell it?”

“I hope it has a happy ending.”

They continue on to the koi pond in silence. The fish are active this morning, a dozen or more orange and black koi roll at the surface of the water, extravagant fins flowing around them. A pair of turtles take in the noontime sun at the water’s edge. They stop and watch the show.

“What do you mean by a happy ending?” Zelda finally asks.

“I want to put the sword away, when it's ready. I want to be the one who does it.”

“That seems like a low bar.”

“I am still not sure I can reach it.”

“Has it been nearly a year, now, since we first met? I have seen you get stronger and hone your skill. You are better than you were when you drew that blade. I think you doubted yourself at the beginning because you thought you knew your limits. You’re past those places where you thought you ended. You’re just untested, and only because you are out of tests.”

“Untested could still be not enough. I just- ..I don’t-” He runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “I have faith in  _ you _ . I doubt myself.”

She slides her hand from his arm and takes his, turning to face him. “I have faith in you, Link. I am glad  _ you _ are going to see us through. There is no one else. You have gotten through every challenge before you. I believe in you. I want  _ you _ to believe in you. You are not the person you seem to think you are.”

He meets her eyes and squeezes her hand, but it’s to keep him focused this time and to listen to her words. It’s hard to think that anyone is seeing the things they claim to see in him. They are all so much more confident and smarter than him, and he is willing to believe them about everything else. Maybe he should start believing them about him, as well.

Maybe.

“Link,” she whispers. “We have to believe we can do this.  _ You _ can do this. I know it.”

He nods back, and feels his eyes fill with tears. She pulls him close and folds him into an embrace, telling him it’s ok. He hangs on to her, grateful for a soft place to fall for once.

***************

He has still been riding dressage; moving from pirouette and passage to piaffe and, once, pesade. There had been a thrill through him, as he slowly got the horse more and more collected, feeling it’s hind end coil underneath him; front end getting lighter, steps becoming higher and shorter; and then, for just a moment, the horse rocked all of its weight onto its hindquarters and pulled its front feet up. Not rearing, but very collected and controlled. He held his breath and smiled. Not the most dramatic of the airs above ground; but, still, he’d ridden it.

He found the afternoon session exhausting after the garden, and made his way to the stables afterwards. The plan was to head out early in the morning. He hoped he could squeeze in some time in the saddle. He arrived just as afternoon feeding was starting, a little too late.

The riding master spotted him and called him over. “Link, I know you’re off again in the morning. I have a surprise for you. I think you’re ready to sit on a horse with more training and I think you’ll need one on this trip. This is a special horse. Take care of her, and she will take care of you. I want to see her back.”

He leads Link to a box stall with the top half of the door latched open. A tall red mare stood inside, nibbling on a flake of timothy hay, her mane and tail as light as cream. Her legs faded to brown and were tipped with white feathered fetlocks. He recognizes the color as one his father strived to reproduce in his lines, but was never able to.

“ _ Oh _ ,silver bay.”

The stable master smiled. “Yes, it’s a rare color, very few recognize it. I knew you’d appreciate her.”

The big red mare flips her ears forward and stepped to the door, hanging her head and neck over the top and whickering to him. The stable master pulls a sweet out of his pocket and offers it to her. “Yes, my lovely, this is Link. You are going to work with him.” He presses another sweet into Link’s hand and steps back. 

“Hello,” Link whispers and holds out his palm flat, with the sweet on top. The red mare reaches with her whiskered muzzle and sweeps the treat away. Link smiles as he takes his other hand and uses a knuckle to rub her withers. “ _ Hello _ .”

“She isn’t the fastest, but that’s not her job. She will go steady all day, and she is rock solid under you. I have never seen her spook or bolt. Honest as the day is long, too. She’ll do well for you up north.

“Her name is Epona.”

_ Epona _ . He closes his eyes as he rubs the crest of her neck, breathing in her horseyness and almost hears a faint, simple, three note melody. Yes. This is his horse. She turns her head to nuzzle his hip.

“I’ll get her ready myself, in the morning, if that’s okay,” he asks.

“If you’d like, we start early here.”

****************

He is up well before he needs to be, shaking and sweating, hand on the garnet under his pillow. It takes him a moment to realize he is still in his room, because he’d sworn he had been on the road to Tabantha; leaning over Epona’s neck and urging her faster,  _ faster _ , though he isn’t sure if he is running from something or trying to catch up.

And there’s that voice, still ringing in his ears.  _ Sooner than you know, old man.  _

Felmi’s voice floats in from his balcony. “Are you ok, sir?”

_ No. _ “I’m fine.” 

“You called out in your sleep.” Link can hear anxiety in the Rito’s voice, tone rising with the end of the statement. He grabs a blanket and heads out to the balcony. If he isn’t going back to sleep anyway, he may as well wait for dawn in like company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I am declaring bankruptcy on chapter summaries. I find them annoying and I don’t know that they are useful.
> 
> In other news, I got injured at work, and my right hand is of commission for now, which means no video games, and I’m super annoyed. I hesitate to ask what’s next. 2020 can go away.
> 
> Thank you again for kudos and comments, you kind folx make my day.


	21. On the Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the road again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry for this late add-I am still figuring out how to tag appropriately. 
> 
> If you’ve been reading along, I changed the rating to Mature due to some of the themes that have come up, and I’ve added tags warning about implied child abuse and mentions of sex. I do not plan on this becoming graphically violent or sexually explicit (nooooooo) but...this ended up wandering territory I did not anticipate when I “finished” the first six chapters.
> 
> So be aware. Tags are likely to change as things develop. Rating will stand.

Link has traveled in a group before, but it’s always been less than ten, and everyone took turns with guard duty and cooking, and you were responsible for your own shelter. It’s entirely different when you’re more than ten and you’re heading north. The road grows colder every night, meaning you start out with more supplies than if you head south. Add the current tension in Hyrule and the queen herself and everything becomes exponentially more difficult.

They stop to set up camp far earlier than if he were going alone, and break it far later. There is _so_ much standing around. There is a cadre of Royal guards rotating watch around Zelda. There is a _cook_ , for Hylia’s sake, and staff to accompany her. There are grooms for the horses and servants to pitch tents and strike them the following morning. And Zelda has brought a handmaid. 

It is going to take forever to get to what had been Tabantha Village.

But

Evenings are nice. They are a small segment of the organism that is the castle, and on the road things are a little more informal. There’s a communal meal around a fire at night, and there are stories to be told as the cold night closes in. He even tells a few. There is often music, as well; and on the third night, there was dancing. Link can barely keep a beat, and he never learned more than the contra dancing they did in Hateno, but he enjoys listening and watching. Zelda even partakes in some of the frivolity, though she is always among the first to turn in for the night. Impa and he stayed up late at least one night, swapping tales in a game of one up that he isn’t sure who won. He is finally part of something; and when he heads to his bedroll each night, he feels warm inside. He wonders if this is what happiness really feels like.

It almost makes up for the dreams. 

They are never very specific, but every night he goes to bed feeling good and hours later he is up with a gasp, hair standing up on his neck, sweat leaving him cold, heart hammering away. Usually, he can get back to sleep; but sometimes he ends up striking his own tent and brewing a cup of coffee for his mangled nerves. As nice as it is to be in a group, he reflects on the morning they start the climb that ends at Tabantha Village, it would be very nice to not sleep alone. 

It is a cold, clear day. There is no snow, yet, but its cold enough to consider. The plan for the day is to stop well outside the village and allow a smaller party to ride in and explore. There’s been some argument about the make up of this party as Zelda’s guards are adamant she stay behind. Link has felt bad agreeing with them. She will be in harm’s way soon enough, and there’s no reason to flirt with a disaster now. Link will be part of that scouting party. Impa and a pair of the more seasoned guards would as well. He spends the day in a mobile meeting with Impa and the two guards, planning out how to sweep the village and trying to anticipate what they might need. There’s a delicate balance to be struck between traveling light and being ready to flee, and making sure they have all the tools they might need for whatever they might encounter. He pulls his cloak closer and gently closes gloved fingers on his reins, as the chill has made all the horses a little fresh. Epona tips an ear back to him and settles, putting her energy into a longer stride.

They stop and set camp mid afternoon. Daylight seems to grow shorter as they head north. The day has gone from clear to heavily clouded, the sky closing in on the party. Camp is made in a tight circle around the fire tonight. He seeks out Impa after dinner, clutching a cup of tea, settling down next to her by the fire. They exchange small talk before he is ready to ask her a question.

“Impa.. do you sleep, ever?”

“I don’t need to.” She pauses for a moment, “ _Well_ , not as much as you do,” she leans an elbow on her knee and rests her head on her hand. “It’s a Sheikah thing.”

“I have been having nightmares, and I think they are centered on that village, and I do not want to be alone tonight. I don’t _really_ want to talk about it, and I do not– I’m not... I’m not asking for something improper.” He stops, tilting his head slightly, trying to parse what he wants. “Can you stay with me tonight? While I sleep? Is that ok?.”

Impa gives him a quizzical look before laughing. She reaches over to put a hand on his shoulder. “I can stay with you, Link.”

He lets out a breath he’d not realized he was holding.

“Would you prefer your tent, mine, or somewhere neutral?”

They end up in his, wrapped in separate blankets, back to back. Link burrows in, shivering, glad lean against someone warm in the night. 

Later, when he bolts up, the arm across his chest and the voice at his ear make him freeze until he realizes it’s a friend–not something to fight his way out of. He falls back into his bedding and Impa slides her hand to his shoulder.

“That was something,” she whispers. “Is that every night?”

He shakes his head “Just recently,” he crosses his arms as his heart rate slows. “It’s not even anything specific. It’s just...it’s like just feelings. There’s no images or action, it isn’t really a dream.

“I think they come from outside of me.”

“A message, maybe.”

“Something like that.”

They lay together, silent, Impa running her thumb back and forth over his shoulder. He is still unsettled, but he feels _safe_. Maybe there is something to having a friend like this.

“Impa, thank you for staying with me. This is definitely better.”

“You’re welcome.” Her voice is a balm.

He hunkers back down in his blankets, and he is quickly asleep.

He wakes up later than he usually does, and Impa is gone; but it’s still warm where she had been. He changes into his chainmail and the green tunic, but throws the travel cloak over it and grabs his gloves before heading outside. He thought his tent was cold, but the outside air nearly stops him. The air smells sharp and he can feel things freeze in his head. He hunches his shoulders and heads toward the fire where he can smell breakfast.

Impa calls him over. “Good, you’re up, I was bringing you this. Extra cream, right?” She offers him a mug and he can smell the deep, heady scent of coffee. Pleasure spills over him and he smiles accepting the mug. 

“Goddesses yes, thank you. You are too good to me.” He dips his face to the mug and huffs a deep breath before bringing it to his lips and taking a long pull. It’s a little too hot, but he likes the feel of liquid in his mouth and how he can feel it warm him as he swallows. Small pleasures, especially on a morning like this. He closes his eyes and sighs, savoring the moment.

“Thank you, again, for last night.” He chuckles. “Yeah uh. You know.” 

She bumps his shoulder gently. “I know. And anytime. Ready for today?”

“As ready as I am going to be.”

“Great, let’s eat.”

*************

By mid morning he is mounted on Epona. He’s riding toward Tabantha Village with Impa as well as Liro and Tazo of the guard. The big red mare is a bit of a handful this morning, despite the double bridle he decided he needed today. He prefers a snaffle bit on his mounts, but suspected he might need a little more enforcement this trip, and he’d rather have it than want it. The mare plays with the metal in her mouth but remains submissive. He almost simply needs to think about a request and she responds.

They move along at a jog, letting the trail roll by. By noon, they are still a half hour ahead of them when the first sign announcing the approach to Tabanth village appears. Epona stops in her tracks. Her head and neck suddenly rise, ears swiveling forward and they freeze. She has gone to full alert under him, nearly electric and the low rumbling snort she gives says she is ready to explode. Link takes a quick look around. All of the horses have come to an abrupt stop and are focused on the road before them. Impa’s horse is jigging and working up a foam as she shortens her reins to try and hold him. Epona flips an ear in Impa’s direction for a second before flicking it back forward and she snorts again, feeding on the anxiety of the other horse. She shifts underneath him, and he gets ready for her to bolt. So much for spook proof.

Impa’s horse half rears. “What’s gotten into them?”

“Something we can’t see or smell.”

Liro is on Link’s right and his mount bounces on its front end twice and then rears straight up. The guard remains mounted, barely, but when the horse comes back down, it whirls and bolts back down the road in the direction they rode in. This is the final straw for the rest of the horses and they erupt in panic, scattering.

Except Epona. She startles under him, and then stands like rock, eyewhites showing, giving another low snort. She flips an ear back to him, asking for direction. Link quickly looks for Impa, not sure which direction her horse bolted. Her chestnut is easy to spot, galloping toward the village. Link gives the mare a swift kick as he tugs his left rein to direct her after the red horse. Obediently, the mare spins and takes a huge leap forward; leaving Link to grab at the pommel of his saddle. She is flying under him, and he stands in his stirrups to get out of her way. He leans forward and whispers _go go go_ to urge her on after Impa. She flicks an ear back, and surges on faster. 

Link has been warned that speed was not the mare’s forte, but she seems to be gaining on Impa with each ground eating stride. It is difficult to not just be swept up in the thunder of hooves on ground, the sharp smell of the cold, the flow of the body under him. They are one and the same now, and he is side by side with Impa’s red horse. She is desperately trying to bring it to a stop, bracing in her stirrups and leaning back, bringing her hands up to only have her mount fling its head trying to evade the bit in its mouth. He shifts both sets of Epona’s reins to his right hand, reaches over with his left to grab the rein on Impa’s horse, and sits back down in the saddle. _Easy– easy, whoa, easy_ and uses his weight to ask Epona to slow. Immediately, her stride shortens and slows. He pulls the rein on Impa’s horse toward him, forcing the horse to unbalance and turn into Epona, hoping the run away will slow as well. Mercifully, the red horse pulls up and stops. Still jigging and dancing, rolling its eyes and snorting, but stopped. 

Impa shortens her reins until she has a tight hold on her mount’s mouth. “Thank you. Stupid horse.”

“He’s just scared, that’s what they do. They run.” He lets go of the rein. “Are you ok?”

“I’m not sure, this is a little more than I feel comfortable with,” Impa wheels the horse in small, tight circles. It definitely would like to be somewhere else. “Maybe we back track and find the guards and try this on foot. I’m tempted to get off now after that.”

Link offers to switch mounts, but Impa just looks at the two sets of reins he currently held in one hand and then back at him with a raised eyebrow. “I can ride, but not like you do, and you have an awful lot going on there.”

“Ride double on Epona and I’ll pony your nag?” He takes his left foot out of the stirrup, swings his leg forward and offers his left hand. Without a word, she dismounts, hands him her reins and takes the offered stirrup to climb aboard, settling herself behind him on the cantle of the saddle. They ride back down the trail at a walk, finding Tazo still mounted, but Liro, looking chagrined, on foot.

Link assesses the scene. “I’m sure base camp will be excited to have a single horse gallop in, and the rest of us no where. We are close enough. We will leave the horses here and Impa and I will go scout. You two stay with the horses, I don’t want to leave anyone alone after that.”

“What do you think that was?” Asks Tazo.

He shakes his head. “I rode through Eppon a few weeks after whatever happened there, and my horse bolted then as well. There’s something they don’t like, and we should be careful. It’s more than just spooky shadows or the wind kicking up.

“If we are not back as the sun sets, ride back to camp without us.” He thinks he sounds confident with that. He chases away thoughts about missing his own deadline. 

“Well,” He turns to Impa, “Let’s go.”

Once they are out of earshot, Link turns to her. “We are not going to split up when we get there. No matter what. Not even a door between us.”

“Do you have any idea what we are going to find?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t. It feels a little like a trap, though. I don’t like that we’ve already been split. We do not do anything without the other. _Please_.”

She nods. “You’re in charge.”

It takes far more time on foot than it would on horseback, and Link wonders if he’s given himself enough time with an arbitrary deadline. Over an hour later they arrive at the arch marking the entrance. At least, it had _been_ an arch at one point. Currently it was two posts drunkenly heaved out of the ground with a broken crossbar between them. It still smells like smoke. It’s been a while since he has been here, but the main square is completely unrecognizable to him.

And he’s cold, though it’s been warm in the sunlight on their way up. He stops before the broken arch to take in the scene. The top story of the inn has caved in on itself. The farrier’s shop has burnt to the ground, but the structures next to it seem untouched by flames. The double door of the tavern hangs off its hinges. There is no sound. This place is dead.

Impa nudges him after a moment and whispers in his ear. “Where do we start?”

“The inn,” he whispers back, not taking his eyes off the carnage. “We are _not_ to get caught here after sunset. Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, everyone, who continues to read along. May was a tough month and it’s nice to know that at least something I throw down is liked. Until the next installment...


	22. Tabantha Village Ruins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s dangerous to go alone.
> 
> So don’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my editor/beta FaerieLink who has just started posting some Linked Universe stuff-please go give them a read!

Together, they step through the broken arch and take cautious steps toward the remains of the inn. It had been a two story building, and the gables that held the roof up were splintered and shattered, crushing the lower floor. The heavy double doors that served as the entrance were laying in the middle of the rough road that ran through the center of the village, the door frame itself was the same buckling outward. Link caught an undercurrent of that same heavy, foul smell he encountered in Eppon; it was as though the air itself had curdled.

“What can do something like that?” Whispers Impa. “How much power do you need to break things like that?”

He just shakes his head.

They stop at the ruined doorway. The upper floor has come down at an angle, sloping back to front, leaving just a crawl space where the entrance had been. Link squats to peer into the depths, ignoring quick complaints from his hips. 

Did something lurch in the darkness?

He gets back to his feet a moment later. “Let’s look around the back and see if it’s more open to explore. I don’t want to crawl in there.”

“Agreed.”

The inn was free standing on one side, where the hitching post still miraculously stood unharmed, and Link opts to head there. Most of the outer wall still stands and seems straight. The back is a different story. A single central beam seems to be the resting point for the second floor, and half of the back wall appears to have been exploded outward. There’s still a chandelier hanging that he can see, and destroyed furnishings of the huge common area. Mercifully, he does not see any bodies.

Impa seems to be thinking the same. “What do you think happened to the people?”

“I don’t know. Felmi said there was screaming, but I don’t see any- uh.. dead.” He takes a step closer. “Maybe they come out at night.”

“You believe in stalfos?”

“I do these days. Stalfos and much worse.”

“I’m sorry, I forgot about the desert.” 

They stare into the back of the inn for another minute before she asks, in a low voice, “Are we going in?”

He glances at that beam. It seems stable and quiet. “Yes. Weapons out. No more than a pace apart. We do not turn our backs to each other.” Keeping an eye on the interior, he reaches his right hand over his shoulder and takes the hilt of the Master Sword; feeling a familiar prickle through his arm and a faint hum in the back of his head. Impa follows suit and draws her sword as well. They make silent eye contact before moving into the inn’s common room.

As they step over the broken wall, the Master Sword lights up, and even Impa hears the sound it makes as it does. They both stop.

“It must always do that, right?”

“It did this after I got killed in the river lands. And in the Gerudo desert. Stay alert. Stay  _ close _ .”

Mid afternoon sun filters in through the broken back wall, revealing the remains of the kitchen and common area. There’s a large hearth on the far side of the room that remains intact. A pair of long dining tables lay in pieces, their benches in splinters. The smell is overwhelming, but he can’t see what must be decomposing in here. Maybe it's somewhere else in the village. He keeps seeing motion on the edges, in dark corners, but there’s nothing when turns to look.  _ Rats, or mice, probably. Little shy creatures. _

He keeps Impa in his peripheral vision. She is silent when she moves, and he does not want to risk losing track of her, even in this relatively small space. They advance; slowly, carefully, one cautious step at a time into the common room. Mindful of how many times spiders had fallen from above him in Faron, Link scans the walls and the partially collapsed ceiling, but they seem quiet. Impa draws herself up short as they get to where the ceiling angle no longer allows them to stand.

“Link,” he has to strain to hear her, even though it’s silent and she is next to him. “There is something in here.” Her left hand reaches out and lightly brushed his right forearm. He turns his head slightly, to keep her in view while looking where she gestures with her sword hand.

It’s darkest where the ceiling nearly meets the floor at the front of the common room. It seems darker than it should be, thinks Link, given that the back of the building is open and it’s daylight. He leans forward, oh so slightly, trying to focus on what might be hiding in front of them.

They hear the sound of leather being dragged over stone. The air takes on that same sharp, sweet scent it had when Zelda called her bow, but the sweetness is cloying instead of pleasant. He steps closer to Impa and draws a breath. She sinks slightly, softening the angle in her hips and knees, raising her weapon as they share a quick glance. Without breaking his gaze from the darkness, he takes his left hand and swings the royal blue shield with the crimson loftwing off his back; ready to defend them both.

He raises the shield just as something explodes from under the collapsed ceiling and strikes it with enough force that he grunts and takes a step back. They are both suddenly surrounded by darkness. Impa takes a step back as well, and then she presses her back against his. 

“We are not getting split up,” she snarls in his ear.

Link has never formally been in battle with others, except to scatter monsters, but he is glad to have her at his back. The air seems to thicken around them, and the temperature drops, enough that he can see his breath. 

“This is not the dance partner you were supposed to bring, old man.” That smoky voice is at his left ear. He pushes his left shoulder back, both to raise the shield and to get Impa to shift with him, and turns to face the speaker. The darkness shifts and swirls, with shapes he can’t quite see. Impa turns her head as well, raises her blade and holds her position. It does not seem like she heard the voice.

And then she sharply jerks her head to her left and hisses “Who are you?”

“Impa, whatever you are hearing,  _ ignore it. _ It is trying to rattle you. Stay with me.” He raises his voice, addressing whatever presence lurks in the darkness. “Your business is with me.”

“And yet you brought her with you.” This time he thinks he can feel breath at his ear. “You chose to put her in danger.” He hears her draw a sharp breath and she pushes back into him. Is she hearing what he does, or is it different for her?

“Show yourself, and we can decide who is in danger. You seem to talk a lot.” Adrenaline courses through him. He can feel his heart beat, and is aware of every small detail he can soak in–the visible puff of air when he speaks, the scent of magic that has been twisted somehow, the feel of Impa at his back and the soft sound of her breathing. There is anticipation in the back of his mind, and it feels as though the moment stretches, time slowing.

If now is the time, he is ready to go. He resists an urge to flip the glowing blade.

Something hits the shield  _ hard _ . Hard enough to jolt his arm to the shoulder and push him backwards into Impa. He is off balance but takes a swing anyway, not sure what he might be trying to connect with. The sword hums through empty air. He feels Impa move and hears her grunt. She must have connected. He turns to take another strike and this time he hits.

He had marveled at how the sacred sword felt, the first time he went after a moblin with it. This is different. This is the task it was forged for, and it  _ knows. _

As the blade bites into flesh, his vision is filled with golden light, like the day he drew it from its pedestal. He has done this before. Hasn’t he? Another lifetime, too young to know the world, old enough to think he did. How many times has he taken this particular swing and had this moment to touch on his pasts?

He finishes his follow through and he is back in the dark. The shapes have coalesced into a figure towering over him, here and not here. Incorporeal and still wounded by the Blade of Evil’s Bane.

**“** Seems you haven’t learned all the tricks you should know by now, old man.”

Link is not quite panting. There is blood on the blade, but the wound doesn’t look like a fatal one to him. The figure before him hardly seems to notice. He is young, thinks Link. Maybe twenty-five. Maybe. Tall, physically imposing. He has red hair and dark eyes that are fire and steel. The armor is ornate, but functional and probably the only reason the Master Sword has not eviscerated him. Anger begins to simmer within him and he raises the bloodied blade.

“Seems I know enough,” his voice is husky and dangerous.

“Consider this just a sample, old man. You will wear and break before me.”

Link bares his teeth and keeps his eyes locked. “Why wait?”

“Bring your proper dance partner next time.” Everything plunges into darkness. The spoiled sweetness is gone from the air, as suddenly as it had come, and the room warms, just a little.

And then it’s daylight again, but the afternoon has moved on, the sun on its downward arc. “Impa, we should go back…”

_ Wait. _ He doesn’t know when he stopped feeling her at his back. She is just gone.

“Impa?”

He swivels his head, confirming he is alone in the center of the common room. Panic wants to bubble and rise, but he pushes it down, willing himself to focus. He is not leaving without her.

“IMPA!” 

And then he spots her, back where the kitchen had been. She has managed to get herself half way up, and is holding her head in her hands. He bolts across the floor, sword and shield still in hand.

“ _ Impa!  _ Are you ok, please be ok, goddesses, please be ok.” The shield and sword clatter to the floor as he drops next to her. He reaches for her shoulder and she startles hard, gasping and turning to him. She is wild eyed and bleeding from a cut on her forehead.

“It’s just me, it’s Link. Can you get up? I think we need to get out of here, now.”

She huffs a sigh of relief and nods. “Give me a minute, I hit my head.”

He nods back and gets to his feet, putting away blade and shield. He finds her sword a short distance away and retrieves it before returning to her side and offering a hand to help her up. She gets up, but seems unsteady. He swings his left arm around her waist. “Put your arm across my shoulder. I’ll get you out of here.” She nods and complies. “Just lean in when you need to.”

He checks the sky. Twilight is just beginning to creep. They are going to miss his deadline. With a grunt, they cross the floor, Impa’s blade in his right hand. They manage to limp out of the inn and back under the broken arch as the sky starts to darken. They will just have to go as far as they can alone on foot.

Thirty minutes later, he hears hoof beats coming toward them. Impa has been quiet, but she lifts her head at the sound as well. He stops and tightens his grip on Impa’s sword. 

The red brown horse is riderless and wears a double bridle, reins trailing. She slides to a stop in front of him, shaking out her cream colored mane and snorting once.

“...Epona?”

The mare stretches her head out to him, blowing into his face. He returns the greeting. 

“Impa, do you think you can ride?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: because apparently this isn’t more widely known among Zelda fans, and that surprised me a bit.
> 
> The name Epona was familiar to me long before 1998, because I was a nerdy kid who loved horses and flirted with world mythology a fair amount. Epona is the Celtic goddess who watches over horses and ponies and donkeys and mules, so it is an unsurprising name choice for a heroic mare.


	23. The Triforce of Courage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up, in a normal year, the end of June to mid July gets busy for me as there’s a big event in one of my weird hobbies. This year, of course, it’s all online, and I’m still playing a decent enough role in it, so my writing time is going to get set aside in favor of prep time and zoom cocktail hours until it’s over. It won’t be exactly the same as the in person event, but it is the gathering of my people and I miss them very, very much.
> 
> So, I have not abandoned ship...but expect things to slow a bit, at least through mid July. I know reading WIP can be scary, but I intend to finish this and I have most of the map.

It’s well past midnight when they get stopped by the guard on watch. _Home at last,_ he thinks. 

Epona gets handed off to some half asleep groom, and he insists on staying with a Impa as she gets the wound on her forehead cleaned. He gives her his hands to clutch as the field medic puts careful silk stitches in her forehead and warns she will have a scar.

“I’d like you to stay here,” says the medic. “You must have taken quite a knock. I’d like to keep an eye on you, ok?”

“I’ll stay with you, Impa,” offers Link.

The medic looks at him sideways and she wrinkles her nose. “ _You_ should go get some sleep. Its nearly daylight.”

“I can sleep here.”

“Suit yourself.”

He settles into a cot near Impa and is asleep before he hits the pillow.

He isn’t sure how long he has been sleeping, but when he stirs, Impa is still snoring away. Something is cooking on the fire outside, and he is hungry, so he whispers to her that he will be back. He steps out of the tent, right into the back of a guard apparently standing over it.

“Ahhhhhhh, hi.”

“Sir, I’ve been instructed to bring you directly to the Queen when you were up.”

“Can I get some coffee on the way?”

He does manage some coffee, with cream, as he stands before Zelda in some field office that has been set up for her. He warms his hands on the mug, still weary.

“I almost came to see you both when you got in,” she starts. “We were worried when the one horse showed up as it was. The horse you came back on ran off when the guards started back. It appears she knew what she was doing.”

“She is a good horse,” he agrees.

“What happened to Impa?”

“I don’t know exactly. We encountered- I’m... not exactly sure what, it was sort of there and sort of not. But it spoke to me, and I’m pretty sure it spoke to her. And attacked us.

“I’ve been having nightmares. I think that... _entity_ was the source. I did get a hit on it with the sword and it seemed less spirit-like, I guess, for a moment. It was more physical for a moment..

“I’m worried about her, but the medic seemed to think she will be ok.”

“It told you to bring your proper dance partner next time, did it?”

“It did. It did _not_ seem happy to have Impa there. It seems it did find you, then?”

“Yes, late in the day yesterday. I’d prefer to go over this with Impa, when she is well enough. 

“I’ve missed our walks, Link. If it’s ok, I’d like to take a walk with you later? I am dogged by guards everywhere, it would be good for me to leave them behind for a short while.”

“Of course, I’d like that.”

He visits with Impa, who is awake at last, but laying low. The stitches in her forehead look angry to him, but the medic assures him that is normal. He ends up napping next to Impa until she pokes him awake so as not to miss his appointment with the queen.

He meets Zelda at her tent, where she is shooing away a guard, assuring him that she will be in the company of the Hero of Hyrule, for Hylia’s sake. She is dressed for cold. Gone is the pink and gold silk dress. She is turned out in boots and pants, a long pink overcoat and gold gloves. He greets her and offers his arm to her.

She takes his right arm, it’s just like the garden. “I’ve missed spending time with you. There is a lack of structure compared to the castle and yet it’s also more formal in some ways.”

He frowns a little to himself. The little thrill he feels says he is failing at this friendship thing. _She has missed spending time with him_. He knows he will be examining those words like a treasure later.

“I have missed you, too,” he says softly. He darts his eyes to the side, meeting hers and she smiles at him before turning her attention forward.

“You are carrying that garnet, still?”

“What? Oh, yes.” He taps the pack on his belt. 

“I believe I know where they go, these stones.”

“That’s good, right?”

“I’m still not sure if they are a trap. I would really like to talk to Impa about what happened to her, but I don’t think she is ready yet. Would you have insight?”

He shakes his head. “I think she heard voices, probably the same one I heard, but I think it told her different things. It tries to get in your head.”

They wander the periphery of camp in silence for a bit. After a while she comes to a stop and gestures to a ridge. “Let’s go over there, I bet there’s a nice view of Hyrule Field.”

The view is nice. It looks into the wide, shallow bowl of green from the northwest. The castle is an elaborate doll house from here, rising above the community within its walls. _It looks like it’s probably still warm,_ thinks Link, stamping his feet.

“I feel like I’ve broken you.”

“...what?”

She turns to face him. “I’ve been thinking about you. Something terrible has happened to you every time you’ve gone out. Things were nice at the castle and as soon as we leave...I’m sorry.”

He shifts his feet and looks down. “I think I was already broken, I just didn’t know until...until the sword.” He looks back up and meets her gaze for a moment. “I. I’m not sure what I want to say. I really thought everything was ok for me until I drew the sword, and then I saw everything wasn’t. I blamed the sword for a while, but. Everything wasn’t ever ok.” He slips his arm out from under hers and takes both her hands. “This is better, I think? I met you, and Impa, and in some ways this is like being under my brother’s roof.

“Maybe, if the sword chose someone else, I would never have known I was broken, and never gotten to have things like this.”

He swallows and steadies himself. He is not sure exactly what he has laid out before her. He is not sure what the reaction is that he is hoping for. He hopes that she will be kind and gentle.

She nods in silence. “I like to think that you seem to have past heroes at your back, at least.”

“They are, sort of. Sometimes I recognize things I’ve never seen, or do something. I wish I could talk to them. Zelda, Do you recall the past princesses? Do they speak to you?”

“I think it's different for me,” she starts, tilting her head in thought.. “There is only one goddess and she awakens in mortal form. I think she is always there, even when there’s no cycle.

“The soul of the Chosen Hero is a little different, I think. They can be anywhere, though they may never know, if they are not called forward. Didn’t you ever feel like you might be special?”

The snort he makes was nearly involuntary. “No. Oh, no. I have never been anything special.”

She frowns a little at him, and adjusts her hands to interlace her fingers with his. There’s a zip of emotion up his spine.

“Link, I do not understand what happened to you- why you think you have no value. I need you to know that you are worthwhile and you always have been. I like you, a lot, and I am glad to have the chance to know you.”

He feels his pulse quicken, while part of him wants to freeze up. His sense of time slows, and the world is quickly just becoming the two of them. He squeezes her hands and takes a deep breath. How long can he look into her eyes like this?

He cuts his gaze away, still hanging onto her hands. “Do you remember the other Links?”

She lets him change the subject. “Bits and pieces. Some better than others.”

He is still thinking about how, exactly, he’d kiss her; and casts back into his head, desperate for a distraction. “Was Hyrule really once in the sky?”

“No. That was called Skyloft.” 

_Skyloft_ . He had a flash in his mind, soft greenery, an improbable river flowing across it, an island in the clouds. He can smell the flowers and feel as though he is falling. _Falling._

One of the first memories he’d had was a sensation of falling, a long distance, he didn’t get to the bottom of it. That happened in Skyloft.

“OH! Skyloft.” He turns back to face her. “You pushed him...me? Off it once, I think.”

She blushes, just a tiny bit. “I did, and I’m sorry, sleepyhead.” 

_Sleepyhead_.

Has she called him that before? She has, hasn't she? 

“Are you still my Zelda?” It came out a husky whisper. The moment is too much for him. 

_Be brave._

He drops her hands and steps forward, taking her face in his hands, closing his eyes and he kisses her as though this is the last thing he will ever do.

He has had a lot of first kisses. He likes them quite a bit, how they are a little clumsy and a little magical, sloppy or sweet, and maybe a little of all of that. This one might be an electric jolt to his core, clearing his mind of everything except how her mouth works against his, the little breathy sounds she makes, how sweet she tastes.

He stops to catch his breath, and when he opens his eyes he is staring into hers and what he has done is upon him. He starts to apologize when she takes the front of his tunic in her hands and pulls him back in, darting her tongue in his mouth this time, and he is swept back to the place where it’s just the two of them. When they break this time, they stay close; his hands on her face, her hands clutching his tunic, forehead to forehead, letting the world stop for a moment. He does not want to think beyond this spot in time. This is enough

She breaks the silence. “ _Well,_ ”

“Zelda,” he whispers. “I am so-”

She takes a hand from his tunic and places it on his lips. “No. Don’t apologize. There is nothing to be sorry about.” She drops her hands and takes a step back from him. He lets her go. They stand in silence, looking each other in the eye for a long moment. She finally turns her head away slightly, smiling. “I feel a bit like a teenager.”

He laughs. “I think we are supposed to _be_ teenagers.”

“Fair.” She turns back to him. “I think we should go back.”

“What about _this_?” He feels a little wild. Moments before everything was good and at peace and everything was right, and now the bottom feels unstable.

She considers him quietly. “I don’t know. I think we should go back for right now. I need to think. We still have work to do, hero.”

He feels himself close down. Things have gone beyond what he can control, so he steps back into what he knows and offers his arm. “Then let's go back?”

She takes his arm and they head back in silence. He doesn’t really pay much attention as he drops her off at her tent. His head might as well be spinning. He tries to check on Impa, but she has been released. He considers tracking her down and decides he needs to work through the afternoon alone and heads to his own tent. 

He ends up on his back on his bedroll, hands over his eyes, replaying how she had grabbed him, and wondering exactly why she tasted sweet and what did she need to think about? 

He wondered if she had felt that jolt, too. She had to have, right?

_Stay distracted, old man._

He threw his hands to his sides and pushed himself up part way, listening carefully, not sure if that had just been inside his head or whispered next to it.

It can’t really be a bad thing, can it, for Wisdom and Courage to find each other like this?

Can it?

He gets to his feet with a sigh and heads out to find someone, _anyone,_ to just sit with by the fire. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spoke to you in cautious tones  
> You answered me with no pretense  
> And still I feel I said too much  
> My silence is my self defense
> 
> -Billy Joel, And So It Goes
> 
> I could tell you “We belong together”  
> And I could tell you “You belong with me”
> 
> \- They Might be Giants, Another First Kiss


	24. Interlude

It’s summertime, and he is sitting behind his father’s barn; back against the rough hewn boards, left arm stretched across her back. She has rested her head in that spot between his neck and shoulder, and he can feel her breath on his skin. He rests his head on hers and intertwines the fingers on his right hand in her left. Her right hand rests on his leg, and she traces slow circles on his knee. It’s hot and still. They are both sweating behind the barn, watching the sun slowly dip below the hills. He hopes they can watch fireflies come out before they get called home.

No one calls for them as the sky darkens and when the fireflies come out, she shifts; picking her head up and dropping his hand so she can caress his cheek. When he meets her eyes, he realizes that of course, it’s Zelda. He smiles and she leans forward to put her lips on his. He tilts his head to meet her, heart fluttering. She is warm and perfect and in his hands.

_Link. LINK! What do you think you are doing with that girl?_

That’s _not_ his father’s bellow.

His eyes snap open and he sees fear in hers before she vanishes from him, leaving him cold and alone in the dark and it’s not Hateno and the barn anymore, it’s that inn in Tabantha and what he is feeling is fury as he shouts back at the dark–daring it to come for him.

He wakes up still angry and agitated as dawn breaks. He snatches the sword in the blue and gold scabbard and finds a flat spot outside of camp where he works his emotions out until he is sweaty and out of breath. He sheathes the sword and stomps over to the fire, looking for breakfast, feeling warm and damp. Impa sidles up to him as he stares at his second cup of coffee that morning. There’s no more cream, and he feels grumpy about drinking it black.

“Hey, stranger,” he smiles at her despite his mood. “How are you?”

“Back to work this morning, it seems,” she replies. “I have been sent to collect you for debriefing.”

He nods and wonders how that might go after yesterday.

Zelda is in her field office, asking questions of the guards who had been with them on the way to Tabantha Village when they arrive. She glances over at them as they enter the tent and Link feels her eyes linger on his a moment as she gives him a ghost of a smile. He gives her a nod back and his face feels a little warm.

_Don’t be distracted. There’s still work to do, Hero._

He has not thought of himself like that before, and he is a little surprised to have done so. He rolls the idea around his mind– _hero_ –and decides it might finally fit.

Zelda dismisses the guards and welcomes Link and Impa to the small table serving as her field desk. “I’m glad you are both okay. That could have ended very badly. Why don’t you both take seats? It’s a little cramped, I’m sorry.”

Link and Impa end up across the table from each other, and it _is_ cramped. He is very aware how close his leg is to hers. She seems oblivious.

_Don’t be distracted._

“Impa,” Zelda spreads out paper before her and readies a quill. “I’ve heard Link’s account of what happened in the Tabantha Village. What happened to you?”

Impa draws a deep breath, folds her hands in front of her and focuses on them. She goes quiet and serious.

“I went back to back with Link when we were attacked. There was a voice at my ears and it said terrible things. I shouldn’t be there, he-Link- had no business putting me in danger. It was quite. _Specific_. About what would happen to me, right to putting images in my head.” She closes her eyes and takes several slow, deep, breaths. Link darts his eyes to Zelda and she is already looking to him. They hold each other’s gaze in silence, waiting for Impa to come back.

“It was very graphic,” she finally whispers. “But in the end it was satisfied with just a laceration instead of removing the top of my skull.”

Link closes his eyes and sighs, suddenly very grateful he had not had to go scrambling for the top of Impa’s head in Tabantha. Would she have risen as a stal or a redead? He wasn’t sure how those worked. It’s a terrible thing to think about, and he pushes it away with frown, shifting in his chair. His right knee contacts Zelda’s thigh as he does so. He pulls his leg back and flicks another look to her, meets her eyes briefly and turns his attention back to Impa.

Impa is resting her chin on her hand and furrows her brow at him. “I’m glad you’re okay.” he whispers and reaches out to touch her wrist.

“What do you two believe you encountered out there?”

This he can answer. “Oh, that was Ganondorf.” Positive.

Impa shakes her head. “I don’t think so.”

He cocks his head at her. “Who else could it possibly be?” He has been sure of what has been dogging him since the desert.

“I don’t think whatever we encountered in Tabantha was Gerudo,” offers Impa. “Nothing says he has to be, either.”

“...aren’t we all chained together, though?” asks Link, his voice rising. “I thought all three of us were bound?”

“I see what you mean, Impa. The Incarnation of the Goddess is always from the Hyrulean Royal Line, though there are some who think that could be any Hylian. Nothing specifies where the Spirit of the Hero or the Curse of Demise ends up, Link. There are the usual tropes, but nothing is guaranteed.”

Link squints trying to assemble this with the crash course he’d had about the Master Sword with his brother. He wished he could go back and talk to Kagun more. _Is that true?_ He asks the blade on his back.

_**You have not always been born human, Master, if that is the question–although it is the most common.** _

He leans back as much as he can. This keeps getting bigger than he imagined. It's already bigger than he is.

“He, or- it, I don’t know, keeps calling me an old man. It seemed younger than us, when I hit it. I’m really confused.” _and more than a little concerned._

Impa softens her look a little. “Nothing about this cycle seems to fit with what was assumed to be a pattern, Link. Wisdom and Courage are contemporaries; and usually really, really young. Power is generally older. Maybe that’s flopped.”

Link drops his face to his hands. Maybe if he can’t see anything he will be able to put it together better. “What is the difference between Ganondorf and the Curse of Demise, though?”

“Ganondorf is just his name when the Curse manifests as a male Gerudo.” Impa replies. “There have been other manifestations that cause the cycle to arise. If this one is younger, then that’s why you didn’t draw the sword as a boy, Link. Literally no need. Then.

“I wonder what happened to push you forward though, you’d taken that hilt a few times, right?”

When did the wheels on his destiny start spinning, without him ever being aware? He can feel himself starting to get stuck in his head when Zelda reaches out to take his hand off his face. He knows it's her. He can feel warmth on the back of his right hand; and even with his eyes shut, he can see flickers of golden light. He opens his eyes and turns to face her.

“We are doing this together, Link. You’re not alone.”

He smiles and squeezes her hand. “The base of the triangle, together.” he whispers.

Perhaps he holds her gaze a little too long.

Impa shifts, giving Zelda a questioning look out of the corner of her eye. Zelda seems to completely not notice as she drops his hand and jots something on the paper before her. Link has seen the interaction though, and when he flicks his eye from Zelda to Impa, he finds that the Sheikah woman has turned her attention to him. He meets her eyes and wishes he had papers to hide behind too.

“What’s going on?” She asks.

Link freezes up and swallows as quietly as he can. _She knows._ Somehow, she knows.

Zelda innocently looks up from her paperwork. “I’m sorry?”

Impa redirects her attention to the queen, allowing Link a second to close his eyes and breathe a small sigh of relief.

“What happened between you two?”

_Oh, she **doesn't** know._

Zelda meets Impa’s gaze. “Why do you ask?”

“Something is going on. What is it?”

“Nothing you need to know.”

Impa cocks her head and raises an eyebrow before swiveling back to Link. He glances to Zelda for support and guidance. Her face is serene and unreadable, but there’s an intense spark to her eyes. He might melt. It would be easier if they were both just moblins.

“Nothing. There’s nothing.” He manages to pin the end of the sentence with a confident note. Zelda gives him a small smile that Impa misses.

Impa leans back and crosses her arms. “There is definitely something between the two of you. I hope it is nothing.”

“Back to business,” Zelda taps the desk. “I have a better idea about all those stones you’ve picked up, Link.”

She did have a better idea. The stones did not need a specific location, as she had first thought, they did need to be placed in a specific pattern relative to each other, and they needed magic to work, though Zelda felt she could do that. But together they would open an alternate space, through which they would push whoever held the Curse of Demise.

Link still felt skeptical. “We should make sure this works before we need it. I like that it gives us an advantage of picking where we do this but. What if it doesn’t work?”

After some debate, they decided they were close enough to the empty Tabantha snowfields for testing. And the town of Wolfpeak was close enough and large enough to serve as a base. They broke before lunch with plans Impa was to set in motion. Zelda stood and dismissed them.

“Link, can you stay a moment?”

Impa raises her eyebrow at this, but says nothing and exits the tent. Link waits, with no idea of what she is about to ask of him.

“Do you think we could go for a walk? I have something I’d like to talk to you about and our walks have been good for that sort of thing.”

It's been a turbulent morning, emotionally, but he feels a surge of something good. “Of course.”

“Great,” she opens the tent flap and steps outside, and takes his arm once he follows. “Let’s go, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to many of my headcanons, I hope you like them.


	25. Galileo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How long til my soul gets it right?  
> Can any human being ever reach that kind of light?
> 
> \- the Indigo Girls, Galileo

They start off together at a slow pace.

“Anywhere in particular?” He asks.

“That ridge with the view of Hyrule Field, that was nice.”

He nods. “It was. What did you want to discuss?”

“It can wait until we get there.”

He has an idea of what she wants to discuss. They wander the edge of camp as it goes about its day to day activity and eventually end up back on the ridge, looking out over the far off green of central Hyrule. 

“Link. About yesterday.”

He braces himself, but doesn’t say anything. He finds the castle and decides to marvel over the walls surrounding Castletown. 

“I have been thinking. Thinking a lot. Maybe we should just see where things go on their own.”

_ What. _ He rocks onto the balls of his feet and back. “Uh, sor-what?”

“I think we can let things between us wander on and see where they go. We need to be discreet.” She takes a long pause, choosing her thoughts with care. “This is getting very real, and I am feeling the pressures of this role. It is lonely. Very lonely.”

She stops and shifts her feet. She tightens her grip on his bicep. He tilts his head as she increases pressure. Her gaze is far away. He isn’t sure she realizes how tightly she is holding on.

“You understand this, how it feels here. You are easy to be around. I enjoy being around you.”

She stops again. He flicks his eyes to her, then forward again.

“I am often slow to ask for things,” she whispers. “Even things I need, things I want. I need to know I am not alone, I want you to be at my side. It would be nice to have one good thing right now.”

He finds a spot on the horizon to focus on. There is no name for the emotion he feels, but it’s reckless and hopeful and good. He can feel the pulse at the base of his throat and is grateful the cloak he wears covers it. “I. I would like that, Zelda. Very much.”

He stares out over the view, but nothing is registering very deeply. He is full of pink light and sparkles. It’s a wonderful way to feel. A moment later, he turns to face her for the first time. She is already looking at him, her expression soft but confident. There is fire in those blue eyes, and it is for him, it is his.

“May I kiss you, again?”

She smiles. “I would like that, Link. Very much.”

She is already so close. He closes his eyes and leans in.

He doesn’t really remember walking her back into camp later. He feels taller and his steps are lighter. It’s good to not have the fate of the world at the forefront, if only for a little while. He brings her back to her field office where she dismisses him with a nod and he thinks about how he still feels her lips on his when she does so. This is a good day. It is a day that cannot be ruined. It’s one he will think back on, later, when he needs to draw strength from nothing.

*************

Camp broke late the next morning, and the ride to Wolfpeak started uneventfully, at least. Link suspected he was getting a room out of this, or at least a bed. He’d be very happy with just a bed. Weeks on the road in the cold left him stiff in the morning, and he felt his limp was far more pronounced. Using this town as a base camp should work out better than this traveling show they had been. They still had a few days of travel before them and he daydreamed about sleeping off the ground as the road rolled on.

He hoped that whatever was destroying little villages didn’t decide to try a larger target.

Impa was declared fit to ride, and managed to trade her chestnut horse for something larger and calmer. She had certainly felt well enough to prod Link on what may have transpired between him and Zelda. By the second afternoon, she had pressed again as they trailed behind the group and he finally asked her for rose garden rules.

“You know,” he said. “What I tell you doesn’t leave the garden.”

She considered it for a long minute.

“I mean it, Impa. Rose garden rules.”

“Fine. Rose garden rules. What happened?”

He side stepped Epona closer to her and dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “We went for a walk.  _ In private. _ But also in front of everyone”

Impa rolled her eyes and pulled her horse to a halt. He sank into his saddle a bit and closed his hands on his reins, marching Epona to a halt as well.

“It was nice. I would do it again. I’d like to do it again, and I think she would as well.”

“Link. Come on.”

“Okay, then. Ahhhhhhhhhhhh. We held hands. Also nice.”

“ _ Link _ .”

“You’re tough. So, what then. Oh, yes. We kissed. Again nice, would do it again.”

“You did  _ not. _ Did you?” She snaps around to stare at him hard. He just meets her and reminds himself he is not lying to her.

“You’re  _ impossible, _ ” she huffs, exasperated. “ _ Fine. _ I’ll leave you alone.”

“Thank you,” he sings and clucks Epona to a trot to catch up.

The next day she finds him early. The wound on her forehead is healing well, he thinks. Her stitches might come out before they get to Wolfpeak. She sits next to him as he works on yet another cup of black coffee, and then leans into him, lips at his right ear.

“You  _ did _ kiss her, didn’t you?” He wondered if she had figured it out alone. She probably had. 

“Yes, that’s what I told you. Impa,” he whispers back. “And this isn’t the place for this.”

“Then let’s go find a place, because I have questions.”

He rolls his eyes and tosses his head, clutching his coffee mug closer. “Let’s go.” He turns and heads to the perimeter of the camp, Impa trailing behind.

They have gotten just out of earshot when she grabs his sleeve to stop him. “You kissed her.”

“I did. She kissed me back. It was good. I don’t see why it matters.”

Impa opens her mouth and reconsiders whatever she is about to say. “It matters because you both have the fate of the world upon you.”

“If that world does not include spaces for people to find each other, it does not deserve saving. Impa. You cannot wait for things to be perfect to do things. Sometimes you need to just do them.”

“This is not really an ideal time for something like this.”

“There is never an ideal time for anything, Impa. You have to take things as they come. If I die,  _ and I might _ , I still got to kiss her. 

“I had a discussion with a friend in Gerudo. How did she say it., mortals love in more different ways and more deeply than gods do. Why do the goddesses need us to settle their old scores? Maybe it’s because mortals can do different things. It was the best first kiss I’ve ever had. It was different.” He drops his head and studies the tops of his boots for a moment, before turning back to Impa. “I think we are better for it.”

“Well, you’re both adults.”

“We are.”

They stand together in silence for several minutes. “I’m not going to regret it, Impa.”

“I did not imply you would.”

“Its just. Its fine for this big story to play out here, and I’m sure it will be exciting to tell someday. Going through it. Its different, and its lonely, and I’m tired of walking alone. It feels right, how can it be wrong? All I did was kiss her.

“Why do you seem upset, Impa?”

“I worry. It is my job to advise. It is hard to separate the job from the relationships. The discussions we-Zelda and I-had seemed to lean differently, but maybe she had other thoughts all along. I am glad if you’ve found something, whatever it is, but I hope neither of you are distracted with whatever it is you’re doing. We all hang in the balance.”

“You think we are being selfish.”

“Maybe.” She meets his eyes sympathetically. 

“I think that we need to work together and if we are doing so with trust and all, that has to be better. If that trust comes with having a person who you can enjoy being with just to be. It is good for me to have something like this. Maybe its not the intimate friendship you envisioned, but I think it is good for my soul. I hope it’s good for hers. I need a bright thing out here, Impa, that’s all. I am not entirely sure why I need to justify it to you?”

“You don’t, and I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.”

“No one is running off, it was just a kiss.”

She says nothing. He does not like feeling judged.

“It was just a kiss.”

“It is what it is, Link. We move forward from here. Let’s go warm up your coffee.” She turns and heads back. He stays for a moment, thinking. He doesn’t regret kissing her, he’d do it again. Surely the goddesses cannot be so cruel as to force responsibility and then tease him with the hope of love, however that might mean, but withhold it.

Right?

_ Right? _

And then he had a thought. What if his entire life had just been divine manipulation?

This stops him cold. He wonders if he should pursue the thought further, and decides if he was meant to be bold, then why not?

_ But what if... _

He’d wrapped his hands around a holy relic when he was sixteen, and that act let the goddesses know he had arrived, and maybe they planted the idea of leaving his miserable home with the promise of adventure. Or even just escape? And he could be close to Hylia reborn, just in case? How far did it go? Did Farore tip his senses to that moblin that killed his horse and broke his leg, leading him to a position where he would be wrapping his hands around that same sacred relic until it decided that yes, his service was required?

He furrows his brow at the implications. How far the other way? Was he born to parents who said they loved him, of course they did, but treated him as a problem and inconvenience at every turn so that when a chance to leave presented itself, he was more than ready to take it?

You think you make your own choices, and make your own paths, and it’s a wonderful delusion, but so much is already set before you even put your boots on.

He is reeling. This is too much for one person to deal with. He wordlessly stumbles back to camp, leaving his coffee cup at the mess table. He doesn’t really recall packing his things or fetching Epona. He has been in the saddle an hour, letting the mare drift along at her big,ground covering walk when he spots Zelda’s long white coat, trimmed in pink and gold, in sharp contrast to the dark bay horse she rides. She is flanked by royal guards and appears lost in her own thoughts.

That’s who he needs to talk to.

“Your majesty,” he is slightly breathless as he rides up to her. “I seek your wisdom.”

“And what do you need, sir?”

He pauses, glancing at the cadre of guards she has in her orbit. “Privacy,” he says. “I would like to make this inquiry in private.”

Her blue eyes look deeply into him and she cocks her head a little. She turns to her guards. “You are dismissed. I will be safe with the Hero of Hyrule.” The guards peel off and when they are relatively alone, she whispers to him. “Link, what do you need?”

“I need to talk about what being chosen by Farore means. You are better educated on this.”

He pours out his revelations to her, ending by asking her where the story ends and he begins. The story he had told himself about himself was a lie, and he was coming around to that concept. He is not ready for this layer, the one that suggested he was merely along for a ride, a tool, and maybe nothing more. This is still new to him, she grew up with these ideas, right?

She moves her reins into her right hand, and stretches her left to him. “Take it,” she whispers. He gathers his reins in his left hand and offers his right to her. There’s a small jolt on contact. He doesn’t think he will ever really get used to that. The back of his hand warms in her grasp. 

“Link. It can’t all be preordained, or there’s no reason to go forward. Maybe we make fewer conscious choices than we understand, but I believe we bring things to this table that matter. We are not machines, designed for a singular purpose. Otherwise, there is no point.”

“Zelda. Are you a conscious choice? Are we? This thing between us?”

She is silent for a long time. Her grip slowly tightens on his. It might be painful if they were both not wearing gloves. “This is real, Link. I don’t know what it is yet. I’m not ready to give it a name. But. Real.” she turns her head to better catch his eye. He meets her and realizes he is ready to drown in her gaze. 

He bites his tongue against what he wants to say next. She isn’t ready to hear it. Instead, he squeezes her hand back and says “Thank you, Zelda.” He can own this piece of himself, at least. He lets her go.

“Link, when we stop for the night, maybe we can have dinner. Or maybe go for a walk after?”

“Of course, Zelda.”


	26. The Triforce of Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Player 3 enters the game.

They have been on the road for two days, and there’s another two, at least to go. A couple advance riders have been sent ahead to prepare for the royal party, but otherwise it’s the same frustrating slow going for Link.

He and Zelda have managed to carve out some time, here and there. They had dinner in private one night, and that was nice. Roast cucco with potatoes, white wine from Kakariko - maybe, he didn’t recall. It had been nice to have what was on the surface such a completely normal experience; even if he hadn’t done the cooking this time and he was opposite the queen of Hyrule, instead of a reference librarian or a shopkeeper. Afterward they had gone and made rounds on the camp, her arm on his and if Impa had raised her eyebrow at him that was the only comment she made. He takes care to be formal in the open. Maybe more formal than before.

He seeks Impa out for sparring in the mornings and she has left further questioning on what his relationship with Zelda might be doing alone. He makes sure to stay focused during these sessions with her, so he cannot be called out for being distracted. He can do more than one thing at a time, he reminds himself. He has gotten better at setting her back, though she still sometimes surprises him.

Most of the day is in the saddle, and he mostly keeps to the back half, where he has been the entire ride. Sometimes Impa joins him and sometimes she rides with Zelda. On this particular day, though, they are riding together and swapping stories about horses.

“I tried to get my pony to swim when I was a kid. I didn’t want to ruin leather tack in the water, because of my dad, so I spent so much time trying to get a bit on a rope halter. And then she just dumped me as soon as it got deep and ran back to the barn anyway.” He shakes his head. “Fancy was a humbling experience at times.”

“It must have been humbling to have a pony named Fancy.”

“What!? It suited her. She was fancy. Her coloring was outrageous. Roan on bay with appaloosa spots on her bum. I have no idea where she came from to look like that. Oh, she was a good pony.”

Impa laughs. “I didn’t learn riding until I was in the service of the Royal family, I cannot say I have had the relationships with horses you seem to enjoy.”

“Horses are great,” he says, scanning the road. “They take you all sorts of places you don’t expect, literally and figuratively.”

Epona turns her head to the left suddenly and her ears flick forward. Reflexively, his gaze follows whatever has drawn hers. He studies the area and sees nothing, but he can feel the mare tense and drift to the right a little. She quickens her pace to a jog and Impa’s horse follows.

“What’s that about?” Asks Impa. “Horses certainly are _great_.”

“Something scary I can’t see.” Epona seems to relax again. “I’m going to circle back and see if I can’t find what was bothering her, I’d like to make sure it was nothing.”

“I’ll join you, then.”

They wheel the horses around and head back down the road for a few minutes. Everything seems fine in that direction. When they turn back, Impa’s horse stops and raises its head off to the left with a snort. Epona seems more relaxed, but focuses on the same far off point.

“Easy, easy,” mutters Link. This feels like trouble. He stands in his stirrups to try and get a better vantage. There is still nothing... _no, wait_ , motion, just a little. Dust or something picked up by the wind, maybe. It’s been cold and dry in the north western section of Hyrule, it’s common for the wind to pick up loose top soil and spin it a bit.

It occurs to him that the air has been still this morning, and the dust cloud seems to be moving toward them. He keeps on eye on the motion and stretches back into his head, but there’s nothing.

And then there’s a faint hum and a vibration along his spine as the sword takes notice.

“Impa. Maybe that is nothing, but maybe it’s not. Hang on, we are going back. Fast.” He clicks to Epona and reins her head back toward the main party before pressing her with his heels. She launches forward at a gallop, Impa close behind. They catch the back of the party quickly and Link rides up on the rear guard, breathlessly explains there’s trouble and they should move, fast, now.

The guard opens his mouth to reply and then his eyes flick over Link’s shoulder. Link cocks his head as the guard’s expression changes, eyes widening and mouth dropping open, color draining from his face. He twists in his saddle to look behind him and galloping up the trail is someone on horseback, but they are straight of a nightmare.

The horse is coal black, and sparks strike up as its hooves hit the ground. The rider seems human, with red hair and what he had thought was dust is some purple black aura, and there’s the smell of twisted magic in the air.

He turns Epona on her haunches to face this, aware that he and Impa stand alone between whatever this is and his party. The black horse slides to a stop.

_Where’s your dance partner, chosen of Farore? Don’t tell me you brought this other one again?_

Link sees Impa shift in the saddle from the corner of his vision. “Impa, go to Zelda and keep her safe.” He takes his reins in his left hand and reaches over his right shoulder to take the sword’s hilt as she turns her horse and gallops up the road.

He hasn’t fought on horse before, not really, it wasn’t a skill he had ever needed to hone. He wasn’t built to joust, and there were only so many things one could learn to do well. He hopes he will be ok. He puts his heels to Epona and she half rears and bounces forward to engage. She covers the distance to the black horse in four or five strides and Link pulls her to a stop.

_Oh, he is as big as dad. Maybe bigger._

He definitely seemed human, at least. Or maybe he started out that way. He is taller and broader than Link. And younger. Maybe mid twenties. Link thought he remembered what twenty five felt like, thought he could recall the fire he’d felt then. He could certainly see it in his opposition's dark eyes. The twisted sweetness of dark magic roils off him, and the temperature has dropped a few degrees. The horse is hard to look at, its not right in ways he doesn’t quite grasp. And there’s the sword. Blackened steel folded with magic, blade a series of zig zags instead of a beveled edge, same oddly slipped crossguard. He bets the sword is trouble.

“Are you Ganondorf?”

“Not exactly.” it's the voice he’s been hearing. Smoke and silk. The horse that’s not a horse shifts.

“Are you Demise?”

“I struck a deal with Demise, Hylian Hero, you can call me Damian”

The sword in his right hand is nearly vibrating. The back of his hand burns. He tightens his grip on the hilt and clenches his teeth. His enemy has named himself at least. Epona stirs under him, but holds her ground. Link keeps eye contact.

“I don’t need you, Hero. I am here to claim that crone currently embodying the goddess. I will need her when I claim her throne and take my rule over these lands. Part of her, at least.”

Link feels something small and cold in his gut. He rolls the shoulder of his sword arm back.

“You can step aside or I can go through you. I’ve been watching you and you don’t seem like much, old man. Though I think that blade is pretty, I’ll take that as a souvenir.”

Link barks out a laugh. It comes out of the depths in the back of his head. It’s someone else laughing.

“Well, then, youngster, come take it.” Oh, how he had _hated_ being called a youngster when he was training. _Hated_ _it_. He raises the sword and puts his heels to Epona. She surges forward.

The black horse surges too, maybe partially dissolving into smears of purple black. Link’s swing is blocked by the obsidian blade. He feels clumsy with a sword on horse back. Something to stab with would be better. He adjusts his grip and tries jabbing forward instead of a swing. He manages to get under Damian’s weapon and feels flesh give at the point, but his moment of satisfaction breaks when the other man’s sword comes down on the master sword, close to the hilt. Damian meets his eyes, pushes him back, and then quickly takes another swing and lays a strike across Link’s right thigh.

He is reminded of the drool on the big spider in the Forest Temple. He is momentarily blind with pain and manages to get Epona to move away while he regroups. He takes a look and its as bad as he fears, blood, and ...smoke? He wonders if he is smelling himself cooking.

There’s no time to deal with this. That black horse is moving forward, are its eyes red? He swings wildly and manages to connect, this time the blade gives the _thrum_ he knows means a hit.

They back off and circle each other. His right thigh is on fire and he struggles to stay on top of it, forcing his focus to ride the pain.

“You don’t need to be part of this, Hero. You can go. I just need her.”

“You’re going to need to go through me for that.” _Just push through, keep pushing._

“As you wish, Hero.”

The black horse leaps forward in a rush. Link spins Epona on her hindquarter, dodging the black sword. He hears it swing past his ear, but it strikes nothing. Link twists in his saddle, and takes a swing at Damian back. It’s a good, solid hit, one he feels all the way up his arm. The sword sends a vibration through him, as well. He pushes Epona forward and swings again, landing another blow. Three quick strides and he puts Epona in front of the black horse and squares off again.

Link is panting as he stares his opponent down. He is hot and tired already. There’s a throb in his thigh, and he can feel the blood soaking his trousers. He still smells the burn. He digs in for the next round. _Just push through._ Damian snarls and then gasps and pulls back and there’s an arrow shaft in his right pectoral. It's not made of anything Link has ever seen before. No, he has seen something like this before.

It's a light arrow, it _has_ to be.

Damian puts a hand over the arrow. It seems that was a worse injury than anything he’d managed to do.

“This is not over, chosen of Farore,” and the purple black smoke swirls and he’s gone, leaving the reek of twisted magic behind.

Link turns in his saddle and spots her, bow still drawn. He thinks maybe she’s met his eyes, but the wound on his thigh flares, making him grit his teeth. He turns Epona back up the road and clucks go, grabbing mane as she bolts back toward the group.

Camp was a turmoil that night. He got a dose of red potion on the run when the medic decided the wound he had was partially infused with dark magic so there is a new, wide scar across his thigh. He is still drained when they stop to set up a modified camp with a tighter footprint and guards around the entire perimeter. The medic insists he spend the night in the infirmary tent and as he is settling down, Zelda enters.

“I heard you were hurt,”

“Magic sword.” he replies.

She takes a seat on the cot next to his, and takes his hand. “You were right to make me practice. I was much more confident about taking that shot without putting it in your back.” She smiles.

He returns it. “You’re welcome.”

“I'm going to stay here tonight. The guard captain wants to leave a decoy my tent, so Impa will be there.”

“I think its going to be quiet tonight.”

“I agree. Precautions.”

They sit quietly, hand in hand.

“We did run him off,” she finally says.

“That was just a test, I think. He’s feeling us out.”

Silence. He idly runs his thumb across hers. “He doesn’t know everything. I fight better on the ground, swords are clumsy on horses.

“Plus, we were not really a team today. He will face us together when it’s time.” He brings her hand up and presses his lips to it. “Together.”

She smiles and he returns it. “Thank you for staying, Zelda.”

“Go to sleep, Link.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, sorry for the longer than intended hiatus, but July always seems to get away from me. Anyway. There is stuff in the buffer and the end is in sight from here. Thank you all for reading along and I appreciate any comments/kudos, it’s all good <3


	27. Wolfpeak

It’s another cold clear morning in Wolfpeak. It’s also just another day of the week - townspeople going about their business, shops opening for the day. Rangall, mayor of Wolfpeak, is out and about, making rounds when there is a clatter of hooves on cobblestone. It’s an odd time of year for travelers, he thinks, and turns to the sound. A pair of riders are moving in at a walk, carrying banners with the royal crest of Hyrule, gold on blue.

What fresh hell is this?

He watches them ride into the square and stop in front of the inn. They dismount, hitch the horses and head inside. Is this a royal vanguard in his small town? Why?

He heads over to the inn to catch them negotiating with Asham, the innkeeper.

“Hello, fellows. You don’t look like the typical travelers we get here.”

“They are here to rent the entire inn,” says Asham, unable to keep the disbelief from her voice.

“The entire inn?”

One of the riders turns. “My name is Captain Nusso and this is Sir Timill. We are advance riders from a party that includes Queen Zelda. She has decided to bless Wolfpeak with an extended stay.”

“The Queen of Hyrule?” He isn’t sure royalty has ever set foot in his town, even though it’s larger than most spots on the road, and it does do some trade. It’s no Rito Village, for certain. What business in the region could the queen possibly have that made staying here make sense?

“Her party will be here in the next few days, and she needs a place for everyone to stay. She will pay the going rate for all the rooms.”

“All of them?”

“All of them.”

**********************

The road slowly widened from a couple of ruts in the ground to cobblestone, and then he saw the arch declaring the entrance to Wolfpeak. He let Epona stretch as they went under it, giving her her head and stretching his legs out a bit. It had been a slow ride. Impa had ridden with him for most of it, and managed to trade her chestnut horse for something a little bigger and calmer. The stitches had been removed from her forehead yesterday, the scar was still pink and angry looking. She seemed otherwise recovered. He was still feeling more vigilant after the skirmish on the road, and it was wearing on him.

“It’s going to be nice to have a real roof overhead.” 

He makes a sound of agreement. “I hope our friend doesn’t decide to try larger targets while we are here. Or ever, frankly.”

Impa suddenly goes silent. It’s long enough that he turns to her.She normally seems to bubble under her skin, and that is silent, too. “Everything ok?”

“I hadn’t thought about that.” She says softly.

“You are now, though. I’m sorry, I didn’t.” He reaches out to touch her shoulder. “We can go talk or something, if you want.”

“Maybe let’s just stop for a minute.” She reaches up and rubs at her scar.

“There’s a little area just outside the arch, that’s probably good.” They both turn back and head for the spot.

Impa sighs. “I’m not used to this sort of threat. It was very _personal_.”

“It doesn’t really go away, but it gets quieter.” He offers. “Most of the time. I don’t know what the accommodations are going to be, but I’ll stay with you.”

They sit on their mounts in silence for several minutes before she says “I would like that.”

“You helped me a lot.”

She turns to meet his eyes and half smiles. “Well, then” her tone is lighter, it’s almost her, even if it is just a good facade. “I think we are working through dinner tonight?”

He follows her lead. “The sooner we figure out these stones, the better.”

***********************

Dinner is Link and Impa and Zelda in a private dining room of the inn that has been quickly converted into a remote Hyrule castle. Impa has tacked a diagram on one wall of the five stones laid out into a shape Zelda calls a _rhombus_ but to Link it looks like a rectangle with a top that is too short. There are two stones marking the top, and three below. There’s considerable debate about measurements between the stones. Impa thinks these are rigid. Zelda thinks as long as proportions are maintained, the portal could be as large or small as desired. Links has no opinion. He sees his role as more one of action and thinks they are both smarter than him, anyway.

It’s late when Zelda dismisses then both, with plans to head to the snowfield for experiments. Impa has managed a small, private space to herself, while Link is bunked with most of the royal guard. He goes to sleep in her bed, back to back in the narrow space. She is up before him in the morning, saving him a cup of coffee.

The morning is cold, but clear and sunny, at least. Link is layered in his tunic and cloak, hood pulled over his head. He suspects he is in for a lot of standing and keeping watch while Zelda and Impa go over things. 

They place the stones in the odd, not really a rectangle formation Zelda has shown them, taking care to put them in the right order and the right distance apart, at Impa’s insistence. Zelda stands at the longer side when it’s done and reaches her hand out, the Triforce on the back glowing.

“Oh,” her voice is soft. “You can feel it.”

Link keeps a respectful distance with Impa, but he can still smell magic, and the air seems to crackle with it. “Can you open it?”

“Let me try.”

She reaches with both hands and slightly bows her head, closing her eyes to concentrate. Link shifts his feet and watches, hoping it will just spin open and they will be done in this cold wasteland. He hears Impa catch her breath and hold it. The hair on the back of his neck raises, and the air seems to thicken as Zelda slowly tilts her head and pushes her hands forward a little more. There’s potential. He can feel it, but it’s just potential.

After several minutes, she drops her hands and looks up, frowning. “Hm. Something is not quite right. Let me try again.”

This time, she steps into the rectangle. This time, he can almost feel the weight of whatever she is trying to call around him. There’s color at the edges of his vision he can’t quite identify. Whatever she is doing this time seems better, but it isn’t quite there.

She spends the rest of the afternoon trying variations on conjuring the portal. She stands inside the rectangle for some. Others she steps outside and takes different positions on the perimeter. She consults Impa and they compare what is laid out on the ground to a copy of the diagram of the stones’ layout. He tracks the sun across the sky and calls for a stop as it starts to sink.

Zelda turns to him, looking annoyed. She would stay all night, he thinks. 

“Zelda, you can try tomorrow. If I bring you back with frostbite, your guard captain will never let me near you again.”

“It wants to work. I can feel it. I just don’t know what’s missing.”

He crosses the distance to her. “Tomorrow. We should both rest and get some dinner. But we also need to go, I don’t want to be stuck after dark.”

Impa places a hand on her shoulder. “I don’t want to be caught after dark, either. Tomorrow.”

She finally agrees. They pack the stones up and head back to Wolfpeak, splitting up at the inn. Link and Impa head to dinner in the common room at the inn. They sit in silence, waiting for their meals to arrive.

“There’s something there, certainly.” He finally says. “She called so much...power? I don’t know what it was, but I felt it. But nothing happened that I could see.”

“I felt it, too.”

“She says it wants to happen.”

“Try and hope tomorrow, then.”

He nods and they eat in silence. Link tries not to project the _what if it doesn’t work_ running in his mind into it.

He spends another night with Impa. She startled him awake once, whispering “ _Its really you, it’s just you._ ” In his ear as she comes out of a nightmare. She doesn’t settle back to sleep after that, or at least he doesn’t think so as he spoons up with her. She is gone in the morning again, and he takes his time rising. He takes a quiet assessment of his body in the morning-his back isn’t bad, and his left leg is pretty tolerable for the moment. Maybe Zelda has figured out the details she missed yesterday. He can hope. 

They are back on the snow field resetting the stones by mid morning. She is outwardly calm, as always, but she fusses with her mount’s mouth this morning, and her quiet seems to bubble somehow. This time she carefully looks at the pattern and slowly walks the perimeter, seemingly checking its every line. Impa stands to the side with him. Zelda has insisted on setting the stones herself this time.

“I’ve been looking at this wrong.” She suddenly says. She doesn’t seem to be addressing anyone. Then, louder. “I’ve been looking at it wrong. Link,” she whirls to face him. “I need you to come closer. It won’t work without you.”

“What?” He wishes he would have something clever to say, when she suddenly addresses him like this. He hopes at least he looks smarter than he feels. Impa gives him a tiny shove toward her.

Zelda beckons him with a hand, a little impatiently. “Come here. You’ve been saying it. The base of the triangle needs to be together. This doesn’t work without you.”

He isn’t sure what she wants, but he steps forward to her side.

“Look,” she points to the stones on the ground. “It’s not a rhombus, Link. It’s two triangles. They share that center point. It’s the base of the Triforce.” 

He only sees five stones on the ground, and in his head, the lines he draws between them make a single, continuous shape. 

“It’s like _this_.” She steps away and uses her heel to drag a line from the garnet at the top of the figure to the the opal serving as the central stone on the lower line. Then she draws another line from the opal back up to the amythest at the upper line. “It’s two triangles. It’s not one shape. It felt the most right yesterday when I stood inside, but it was missing you.” She leads him to the right of the opal, and stands him inside the triangle she has partially drawn for him. “Stay here.”

He stands and hopes whatever she is about to do works. He glances back to Impa, who raises her eyebrows. He can feel _something_ warp the air around him as he stands inside the stones. Power, potential wanting to be something else. When she steps into the triangle on the left, it’s a physical weight on his shoulders - and a small, soft groan is torn from him.

She heard it. “Link. You’re ok.” It’s not a question. He glances toward her. There is an intensity rolling off her, he can feel it like an undertow. There’s fire in those blue eyes. She knows who she is, he thinks. She owns her power, whatever it is. And then there’s that sweetness in the air, this time he can taste it. Magic swirls and crackles. He forces himself to stay on his feet as the air between and in front of them splits open, revealing a darkness torn in their reality. He doesn’t know if he is looking into Lorule, or the Twilight and maybe they are the same, anyway, did it matter?

Somewhere, in the distance he hears her voice _that’s it Link, that’s the portal_ and he isn’t really sure if he hears her or she is speaking directly in his head. His head swims and he thinks his nose is bleeding, how is he supposed to fight when he feels like this? He staggers out of his triangle, and the portal collapses as he drops his hands to his knees and tries to sort out what has happened. 

She spreads her hand out between his shoulder blades, and this time her voice is in his ear. He knows because he can feel her breath on him. “It works. Link, it works.”

“Zelda.” He still has his eyes closed, and he can still taste magic. “I can’t. I can’t even stand up in that.”

“You will, though. We just need to practice. Someone once told me it was good to practice new skills.” He thinks he can hear her smile as she says it.

He slumps his shoulders. It’s going to be a long day. Somewhere, Impa laughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for riding along. I really appreciate the comments and kudos. I think it might be wrapped and done in the next 6 weeks?


	28. Let it In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha ha yeah, sorry. There was a big storm here almost 2 weeks ago. I came through fine and then the internet went down hard like 2 days later. It’s still out. I’m connecting with a paper cup and some string. There’s a guy coming out to perform and exorcism this weekend. I also started a new job. It’s been weird.

They spend a week on the snowfield, Zelda opening a portal and Link trying to not lose himself in the onslaught of her doing so. He went back to his own bed after the first day with a blood shot eye in addition to a nosebleed, and found odd bruising on his body the next morning. He felt almost hung over on top of it. The sunlight streaming into the room was nearly blinding and he decided he prefered the honesty of steel. Even if there is magic folded into it.

Impa meets him each morning with coffee. They have been sticking with small talk in the mornings, avoiding discussion of their afternoons on the snowfield. 

By the end of the week, he can stand and think about swinging a blade, but he is not ready to spar under the new conditions yet. Zelda’s control and power have grown each day. He almost wonders how necessary he is. After a week, she decides it’s time to return to the castle. Some afternoons, and a couple nights, they open portals on their way home. Each time, she easily wields her power and each time, it’s marginally easier to hold his ground and try to swing his sword. Impa stands in as their nemesis, during these sessions, and she disarms him with ease. 

How much time did they have, he wondered. If using this portal was required, it was going to be much harder than the run-ins they’d had already. 

He has dinner with Zelda one night on the way home, though his head is bothering him and he feels every minute he has been alive in his soul. He excuses himself early, and apologizes for being poor company and she takes his hands and says “You should stop fighting yourself out there. It's easier if you just let it in.”

He cocks an eyebrow at her.

“You won’t get lost in the portal magic. I won’t let you. Concentrate on dancing with your sword, like you already know how to do. I won’t let you fall.”

He has been mostly sleeping alone on the way home, though he and Impa tend to camp close by. On this night, he brings this revelation to Impa and asks for her thoughts.

“She’d be the best person to ask about how to work in it, Link. I’d try to do what she suggests”

“I am still used to doing things on my own, it's odd to remember there are people who, I don’t know, are on my team?”

Impa laughs. “Aren’t you courting her? Why would she not be on your team?”

“That word seems a little...formal? I always thought it was for a person you intend to marry and I don’t think I was ever really going to do that. I don’t know, I’m not good at introspection. 

“I never put a name on other relationships, they just were what they were. They ended when I was told to go somewhere else. It was never courting.”

“I think it is now, “ says Impa, patting him on the shoulder. “Don’t be afraid of the word. It doesn’t mean you end at an altar, either. See where it goes and don’t worry about it. Let it in.” She pauses and grins. “Maybe she didn’t just mean magic.”

He lies down with more than one thing to puzzle over that night.

They are a night away from Hyrule castle when he finally decides to just breathe in as the portal crackles open, and let it wash over him, trying to not think of the weight of the air around him, but his grip on the sword and that’s the night he finally disarms Impa.

***************

Castletown is nearly a different place when they arrive. It’s become commonplace to see a moblin in the countryside, and there are enough to make people nervous. There are even whispers that Lynels have been sighted. Every little settlement in the area seems to have picked up and moved inside the walls. New people arrive every day. Link notes that the various merchants seem to have less inventory and what they have is more expensive than he recalled. There are hastily built shelters in the green spaces and parks, and he sees what seems to be a communal dining hall. Zelda’s oldest, Marran, has had his work cut out for him while they have been away. Link picks up his pace to head back to his rooms in the castle. 

There’s a meeting over dinner in Zelda’s private dining room to get the status of the castle. Marran ordered the construction of the communal facilities once people arrived at the gate, as well as releasing castle stores to try and keep people fed and settled. It’s probably helped, but he is obviously relieved to have his mother home. 

“There’s one more thing,” he says as he wraps up his report. “I had a group of advisors study reports of monsters as people started showing up at the gates. The little villages that have been destroyed? Eppon apparently had a silver moblin in their square a week before it vanished. There was a lynel outside Tabantha, close enough to shut everything down for a night. It seems there's enough to make people nervous, but not quite enough to flee, until now.”

Zelda nods. “Perhaps we can predict where this might happen again, and prevent it. Why don’t you take your team and continue to work on that? We will meet every morning going forward.”

Zelda orders the archery field closed to serve as a place to set the portal stones and allow for a continued practice area. She places it under round the clock guards and gives Link the following day off so she can finish coming up to speed with her governing duties. She promises they will be back at things the day after, early afternoon, every day going forward. She also calls to have the great hall in the castle set up as a public dining room, as soon as possible, and requests as many members of her court attend dinner with her in the public room in the evenings when it is ready. 

He spends his day off getting up early to dance in private with the Master Sword, and then takes to the gardens. The roses are out of season as the weather is turning cooler and other flowers take their place. The koi still swim and swirl in the pond and he watches them for a bit.

He spends most of the day thinking. He ponders this pattern of monsters. Where had the silver moblin he had seen been going? Had that one been random, or did it have purpose? Had he accidentally made himself known that day? And there were the about the encounters with the apparent holder of the Triforce of power. There was so much magic involved, more than he had imagined might be. He wondered what he was teaching this new player. And what had he learned, himself? 

Damien seemed young. Youth could be reckless. It might be at the height of its strength and speed, and unaware of its mortality. It was easy to underestimate youth, when you lean on experience. Youth could see things that experience blinds you to. Link would have to take this threat very seriously. Whatever was before him was unlikely to be anything he might be familiar with. 

If they really could predict where he might strike, that could be turned to their advantage. They could be in place and ready. Maybe. Hyrule was a big place, and Damien seemed to show up wherever and whenever he felt. Link wondered if they could bring him to them, instead. He had said he needed Zelda. Did that mean he  _ physically _ needed Zelda? Maybe they could draw him out with her, the way he came to them in Tabantha. Zelda could serve as bait for a trap.

_ Oh _ . He suddenly didn’t like that idea. Bait could be stolen.

There must be a way to bring the end sensibly. He spent the day, walking the gardens, running over options.

***********

Life in and around the castle continued to change. Guards were doubled around the walls of Castletown, and the great iron gates closed from sunset to sunrise. A curfew had been set inside the walls. The great hall had been quickly converted to the dining area Zelda asked for, and the kitchens were on duty serving in the evenings. The first night Zelda formally takes a seat at the elevated head table, her introduction is met with applause and cheers. Link finds it a bit overwhelming, but it does seem her presence comforts people, at least for now. 

Over the next several days, Link and Zelda are on the archery field where she is opening portals and he learns how to fight inside its periphery. He finally brings Impa to a decisive defeat one afternoon, stepping outside his boundary as she calls to stop and breaking the spell Zelda spins. He still feels oddly battered inside that bubble of magic, buts almost tolerable and at least the nosebleeds have stopped.  _ Maybe, _ he thinks.  _ It’s time to bring up the next step. _

“I think we are done for today,” says Zelda. “That was well done.”

He straightens up. “Zelda, I have some ideas. Perhaps the three of us can meet after dinner and discuss it.”

She nods. “I hope you’ll join me at dinner then. You can escort me to the hall.”

“Of course.” He feels like he has hardly seen her since they have been back. There’s been no time for walks. When she hasn’t been working with him, she has been in meetings, managing the kingdom. She has delegated much of the day to day of the castle to Marran but he still seeks her counsel. He misses the slow and quiet time they had. He should have made more of it.

He spends probably more time than he needs getting ready, leaving his hair long, putting a set of blue enameled hoops in his ears and donning a blue tunic he knows matches his eyes. He arrives early to get her and when he offers her his arm, she looks him up and down before taking it. 

“You’re very handsome tonight.”

He feels warmth spreading over him, and he smiles. “I have missed you, it’s been all work of late.”

She returns the smile, and there’s a sparkle to her that makes him catch his breath. “I’ve missed you too. At least we have a moment now.”

He purposely slows his pace. The castle halls aren’t as nice as the garden and the koi pond, or even the camp on the road. He thought it would be hard to keep the discretion she had asked for, in a large place that seemed to be full of eyes and ears in every corner.  _ It’s not a challenge, _ he thinks,  _ when you’re hardly together.  _ He stops before entering the hall, takes her hand and presses a kiss to it, meeting her eyes as he does so. Then he brings her to the head table overlooking the rest of the hall, as her presence is announced, and the people filling the tables cheer.  _ At least they still feel good enough to cheer, _ he thinks. He heads to a side table on the dias and takes a place next to Impa.

“You did well today,” she says, passing him a basket with warm bread. “And you clean up nicely.”

“Thanks. I feel like I haven’t seen you since we got back, unless you are trying to fight me.”

“It  _ has _ gotten busier. There’s a lot to do.”

“Everything is ok then?” He taps at his own forehead, on the place where her scar is.

“It feels safer here. Hopefully we don’t have another traveling road show, I don’t think I’d be up for that.”

He nods. “I have some ideas about the next step for after dinner. None involve a road show for you.”

“Good. Can we talk about something else? Surely you have some story about a horse.”

*************

He finds himself back in Zelda’s office after dinner, where Zelda and Impa are listening to him spin out ideas.

“We are working under the assumption that this Damien is carrying the curse of Demise on this round. He seems to be acting alone, which is interesting. I don’t know if that is just part of being arrogant when you are young and skilled or there’s more we don’t know yet. We have run him off twice though. I don’t think there's a reason we can’t do it for good, but there is a matter of actually doing it. 

“I think we can try and force him here...”

Impa straightens up. “Here?”

“Well, um, maybe Hyrule Field, outside the grounds proper, but territory we know well. He told me that he needed Zelda. I don’t know what that means. But maybe it means that if she is important in whatever he is going to do, then we can make him come to us, and that gives us an advantage. 

“Uh, but it also means that we um end up setting a trap with ah Zelda as bait.”

“ _ Bait _ .” says Zelda. “Do you have a plan for what happens if the bait gets snatched without tripping the trap?”

“Ahhhhhhh. No.”

The silence draws itself out awkwardly and he feels compelled to plunge on to stop it. “I have another idea, its also not well fleshed out but we could go to him, but just Zelda and me, alone.”

There is no immediate response to this either. 

“So. If we know there are warnings to where he will show up-Lynels and silver moblins and all, then maybe we can predict where we could meet him. If it were just two on the roads, we could also travel much faster than any party I’ve been involved on that was more than me. We can stay off main roads where you might be recognized. We could disguise you. The end is just you and I, alone, anyway. Why be a huge, slowly moving target, when we can be small and agile?

“We just need to look for the monsters. Surely, people report lynels.”

“There have been credible reports of lynels in Eldin and Faron recently.” Interjects Impa. She is staring into the distance, and he can almost see wheels turning in her head. “I'll look into this more tonight,” she leans back. “It will be nice to have a research project overnight.”

“I feel like I’m still bait in this scenario,” says Zelda. 

“Maybe, but together we are bait and trap.”

“Why don't we get Impa’s research and think on this overnight?”

Impa pushes back her chair. “On that note, I’ll go see what I can find and leave you two alone. Its a nice evening for a walk or something.” She is out the door and gone as Link is still processing what she’s said.

“It  _ is _ a nice night,” notes Zelda. “We can go on the balcony and look at the stars. Or not.”

************

Its hours later when he gets back to his rooms. He feels warm and a little unraveled, still imagining her hands in his hair and on his chest. The pretense had been simple stargazing on one of her balconies, and they leaned on the railing with a glass of wine and pointed out stars to each other, though the sky over the castle suffered from too much light on the ground, even late at night. When she leaned into him, he slipped his hand to the small of her back and they both quieted, still looking up into the heavens. He closed his eyes and sighed.  _ Let it in. _

He tilted his head to her ear and whispered “ _ Skyloft _ ,” before placing a slow line of kisses along her jaw to her mouth. She turned to meet him by the time he gets there, greeting him with soft, slow kisses. Her fingers danced along his collarbone as she slid her hands over his chest, pausing to feel his heart thump. From there, she moved them to his back, and up his shoulders and neck until her fingers are in his hair. He pushed into her a little, then, aggressively taking her lower lip in his mouth, hands on her waist. When he dropped them to her hips and pulled her against him, she suddenly broke off and turned her head slightly, huffing.

“I think I need to stop here. I’m sorry, Link, I just. Not now.”

He took a hand and placed it on her cheek, turning her head to him. “Is everything ok?”

“Yes. This is just stirring things I didn’t expect. Link,” her eyes are soft, and there are partially formed tears now. He isn’t sure what he has done. “Very few know this, but I took a lover after Dozam died.” She stops for a long moment. “He was a member of the court, but not someone who would have been deemed a proper suitor for me. He did not take well to being kept in secrecy. He thought he could do it, but in the end, he was unhappy and he left. I don’t want that to happen with you.”

He pulls her into an embrace. “Is the hero of Hyrule not a proper suitor for the Queen?” He whispers.

He feels her chuckle against him. “I suppose you are, but, it’s not really that. Just. I don’t know why this feels hard for me. Can you just hold me?”

She rests her forehead on his and curls her fingers in his hair before he whispered “Yes. I am happy to keep the pace you set. But I’m not this person from your past, Zelda. You aren’t the person you were then, either.”

He is unsure how long they stood like that, he did not notice time passing. Finally, she gave him a last soft kiss and dismissed him.

“I’ll see you in the morning, Link. Sleep well.”

They don’t stop in his dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next couple updates should be more timely, since they are done, at least.
> 
> Thanks for comments and kudos, I appreciate the feedback.


	29. Upheaval

He is up early the next morning, getting lost in motion as he swings the sword. He moves through his forms with grace and ease, mind almost completely separate from his body. Working alone with the sword has become akin to meditation for him, and he welcomes a chance to be in the moment when there is so much to weigh on him.

He is warm and loose when he is done. He quickly cleans up and heads to Zelda’s dining room for a late breakfast and to hear whatever Impa has found out. When he enters the room, instead of settling in for coffee and ordering some eggs, he sees Zelda leaning on her forearms on the table - intently taking in a report from some captain in a wing of the guard. Impa is taking notes and looks grim. Link wonders how long they have been going. He slips in next to Impa as quietly as he can, meeting her nod of greeting.

“It’s apparently more difficult to make a larger town like Eldin’s Bridge vanish quietly overnight, your majesty, but that is the word. Fields burned, livestock slaughtered in their barns, a handful on the edges managed to get out and run. There were moblins and lizalfos - maybe more than a handful.”

Link feels a small drop in his gut.  _ Oh. _ Things are very different than last night.

“Impa,” Zelda starts. “Where do you think the next strike is due?”

“I was going to say Eldin,” she reports. “But perhaps you should look at Faron, instead. Ordon has seen Lynels and a gold moblin.”

“ _ Gold _ ,” Link interejects. “Are those real?” He could handle a lizalfos, he never thought they were mythical.

Impa seems incredulous. “Are you actually asking that? Yes, it seems they are real.”

“So, we should ride to Ordon in Faron.” He asks. 

“Yes, and soon. You appear to have a fortnight between a lynel and destruction, and the lynel in northern Faron was two days ago. You should ride out in three days, four maximum, if you intend to head off destruction there.”

He turns his head to catch Zelda’s eye. “Just you and me? Quick and maneuverable?” He asks.

She nods. “This seems the best plan.”

**************

In the end, she orders reconnaissance riders out to Ordon immediately - with pigeons to send back if needed. Plans are put into motion for her and Link to ride out together under cover in a few days. She orders one last round with the portal for the afternoon before the stones are to be packed up for them. Finally she orders a meal the night before they are to leave, with all her advisors, to leave final plans in place while she is away. The next few days are full to the brim for him.

He makes time to check in with Impa the following morning, sitting next to her at breakfast and lazing over coffee as the dining room slowly clears.

“Impa, it’s going to be strange to ride out without you. I will miss you.”

She smiles at him. “This part of the story isn’t for me. And I am not ready for whatever you two might be facing.” She shivers and he puts his arm across her shoulders. “I’ll wait for you both here. We will have drinks when you get back.”

He gives her a squeeze, and a quick kiss on her cheek. He waits a few minutes before posing a question to her.

“Impa, how long have you known Zelda?”

Impa shakes off his arm and taps her cheek, thinking. “I’ve been serving as an advisor to her for almost ten years. I came on board a year, maybe two? After the king died.”

“So, were you around, then - um.” He stops and runs a hand through his hair, unsure of the best way to phrase his question. “She was in love with another.. ah, after the king?”

It is Impa’s turn to be quiet and consider her words. “I wondered if she would tell you about him. I don’t think she was in love with him, not really. I think she was lonely, and under pressure, and he provided escape. I think she loved that. Maybe she thought that meant she loved him, too. I never really liked him. I don’t think he saw her, but rather the idea of what she might make him mean. He was in the royal guard, a little arrogant. Didn’t like being on the side. I think it ran a year before he asked to be transferred somewhere like, Eldin, maybe?” She shakes her head.

“He made her cry. More than once. Did she tell you his name?”

Link shakes his head.

“He was a Link. It’s seems there are always one or two in the royal guard. He wasn’t anything like you, though. Dark hair, dark eyes, taller, broader. Much more closed off. He shut me down any time I approached him. I was not unhappy to see him leave.

“How did he come up?”

“I seem to remind her of him.”

“I suppose he was going to come up eventually. She has been closed off to others ever since him, until you dragged yourself back from the Zora’s Domain the way you did. And when you turned on your charm enroute to Gerudo.” She gives him a playful shove.

He gives her a glare. “ _ Impa _ .”

“And there is yet another thing that is different between you and him, I’ve yet to quash a rumor about you that you started. Thank you for that.”

He grunts, uncomfortable with the idea she has heard anything in the first place.

“Her immediate staff is discreet, but chambermaids are everywhere.” Impa shifts in her seat. “Tread carefully, hero, and please don’t step on her heart.”

“She sets the pace,” he replies. “I follow her lead. Impa. I love her. I thought I knew what that meant before.”

“You should tell her.”

“She isn’t ready to hear it.”

“Tell her anyway,” Impa whispers. “You only think she isn’t ready.”

***************

It’s only a couple days, he tells himself, but there is so much going on. There is an urgency to things that was not really there before, as the reality of  _ this is running to its end _ starts to strike. There had been so much time until there was not. The night before they are to leave is before them in what feels like hours from that morning meeting. Instead of dinner in the great hall; he meets with Zelda, Impa, and a handful of advisors. Marran is to take the reins again while his mother fulfills her sacred duty, so he is there, as well.

These meetings with advisors always seem slightly over Link’s head. He never feels exactly sure he understands what is going on, and is never sure he actually needs to. He drinks the wine he is served and attempts to look serious until things begin to break up.

Link feels hazy by the time Marran approaches him. He has only had formal introductions with Zelda’s sons, there had never been time for much more.

“Sir Link, if I may have a word?”

“I am at your service, your grace.”

“Forgive me if this is personal, but I feel I need to tell you. I have noticed.” He stops and Link maintains his posture, unsure of exactly what is about to happen. “My mother is lightened by your presence. I am not sure what may have gone on, or is going on, between you, and forgive me if I am overstepping, but - you would have my blessing to court her while you ride out together. If that is what you are doing.”

He still thinks  _ courting _ is formal for what they are doing, but he swallows and says  _ thank you _ to the young man who is entrusting his mother to him.

“Please be careful with her,” Marran pleads. “She is precious to me.”

“To me, as well, your grace,” he replies. “I will take care of her.”

*******

He had already made plans to meet with her after that last dinner. He is on her balcony, off her parlor, and they are trying to find stars again despite the lights around the castle. He stands behind her, with an arm around her waist, his other hand holding a glass of wine. He’s probably had a little more than he should have tonight. She rests her hands over the one he has around her. 

He has been asked to be careful with her, and this is on his mind as he holds her, conscious of how she feels against him, focusing on her warmth and presence to distance himself from the mission they are to embark on in the morning.

He drains his glass - setting it on the side table as she rolls her head against his shoulder, turning her face to him and whispering “ _ Kiss me, _ ” He turns his head to oblige her, savoring how she tastes, and how soft she feels against him. Had she said she felt like a teenager? He doesn’t feel exactly like that. He had thought he had aged past the butterflies and the way one person can be everything, if just for moments. It is good to learn that he hasn’t. When his emotions finally overwhelm him, he breaks off; catching his breath and sliding his hand on her cheek. “Zelda, I need to tell you,”

She places a finger on his lips. “Link. No. You don’t need to.”

He pulls her hand away and meets her eyes, whispering “But I want to. I love you, Zelda. Whatever happens after tonight, I want you to know this. I love you.”

He bows his head and tilts his chin to look into her eyes, feeling naked before her. She rests a hand on his cheek and strokes his face with her thumb. “Link.” Her voice is soft. 

“You don’t have to say it back,” he whispers, though  _ oh _ , he hopes she does. “Just know I love you.”

She looks into his eyes, and continues to run her thumb on his cheek. She says nothing, but leans into his lips with a sigh, slowly working her mouth against his. He slips his hand to the nape of her neck, drawing her closer.

He is not sure what is before them in Faron, but he knows things will be different once they have ridden through this cycle they are entwined with. But that is tomorrow, he thinks. Tonight he can still curl into her and forget there was ever anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m baaaack. I am hoping from here out to be more regular updating I have stuff in the buffer, at least and things are heading to the end. 
> 
> Thank you all for kudos and comments, I get excited at each one. You can find me on Tumblr as DrSteggy if you want, I like interacting with people!


	30. Just Link and Zelda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two people spend three days enjoying each other’s company.

He probably stayed on her balcony later than he should have. It was hard to leave.

He stirs slowly awake, in his own room, dawn on him before he is really ready; but he gets dressed. They are riding under a flimsy cover, he thinks, but once they are out of central Hyrule, the plain clothes will likely be enough for them to pass. She still doesn’t carry herself like a commoner, even without the crown she will stand apart. He will have to keep that in mind as they ride.

He escorts Zelda to the stable as the sun rises, carrying both of their packs for the trip. Epona is already out of her stall, tacked and cross tied, with someone looking her over. He starts to call out when he realizes its Impa. 

“Sorry, Link, no coffee this morning. I had to see you two off.” She has an embrace for each of them before she steps back. “I don’t want to make this drawn out. Please be careful, both of you. I want you to both come home. Please don’t run off with each other. At least wait until this is over.” 

Once they are beyond the gates of the castle, though, Zelda asks. “What if we did run off, though? We could live on the beach on Lurelin.”

“Do you  _ want _ to do that?”

She tilts her head, looking through the ears of her dark bay gelding. “I don’t know. I might like to try it.”

He snorts. “It is just us, until we get to Ordon. We are just Link and Zelda. We should be passing through places with inns on this route. Safe places for the nights.” He softens his voice. “We can just be Link and Zelda, at night, if you want. If you don’t, that’s ok. It’s not Lurelin, exactly.”

“It’s the same idea, though,” she finishes. “I think I’d like to try that.”

He feels an urge to fill the silence between them and for once stamps it down. If it’s still important later, he decides, it can wait. “Let’s move on, then. We have a bit to go.” He clucks Epona to a canter, and Zelda quickly follows.

The road rolls on uneventfully and they reach their first destination by late afternoon. Size wise it’s between Wolfpeak and Tabantha Village and Link isn’t sure of the name, but he spots the hitching rail in front of the inn and points it out to Zelda. He dismounts and ties Epona before helping Zelda down. 

“Remember,” he murmurs to her. “We are regular people, passing through. Let me get a room. Maybe we can have dinner served there.”

She nods, and pulls the hood of her travel cloak up to hide her face.

There’s a large hearth with a fire crackling on the left side of the main floor great room. There are a couple tables and it looks like dinner is being served. Link takes a deep breath and thinks he smells some sort of roast. His mouth waters. There’s a bar at the back of the room, doubling as the office for the inn. He heads toward the bar, Zelda in tow. He is halfway across the room when he hears her stifle a gasp. He turns to see her gaze directed at a portrait hanging over the hearth.

A portrait of a young Princess Zelda, looking serene and wise, seated on her throne, superimposed over the winged crest of Hyrule, Triforce over her head. 

Link, puts an arm across her shoulder and spins her away. “Look down, and don’t speak,” he whispers to her before taking her arm and heading to the bar.

“Hello!” He calls out. “I was wondering if you had a room? We are passing through and my wife isn’t feeling well.”

The man behind the bar snaps to attention. “I’m sorry to hear that, sir, let me get you set up and she can get some rest.”

Less than an hour later, he has a room, has convinced the innkeeper to allow him to get meals (and a stout) sent to the room and settled the horses for the night. The room is modest, with a double bed, and a side table with a basin and an oil lamp. He notes that there’s just enough floor space for him to stretch out on.

“ _ Oh. _ Oh my.” Zelda is still amused once they are settled for the night. They are both sitting on the bed, the side table pulled over to serve as a dining table. “I was such a skinny thing. Oh, I remember sitting for that. I’d only been married a year or so, and was trying to get pregnant, because that’s where I thought my fate had gone at that point. That had to be twenty five years ago - I wonder if that’s been hanging there the whole time.” She looks pointedly at Link. “Where were you then? Twenty five years. So much has happened.”

Twenty five years  _ is _ a long time, he thinks. Had he been seventeen? Eighteen? In either case, he was still learning how to swing a sword without getting hurt and trying to figure out who he thought he was. He picks over his dinner.

He was definitely not who he was then. “Time passes, people move.”

“What do you think your younger self would say, knowing what you do now?” She asks.

“Zelda, I still hardly believe this has all happened to me now. I would not have been able to hear this at seventeen. Eighteen. Whatever.” He chuckles. “If someone told eighteen year old me I would be sleeping in the same room as Princess Zelda, I’m pretty sure I would have had a very good laugh. And on that note, I’m going to stretch out on the floor, please do not step on me.”

“Nonsense,” she is giving a command. “You’ll do no such thing. This bed is for two, and you are sleeping with me.” She places a hand on his knee and he dips his eyes to it. Her voice softens. “We are just Link and Zelda right now. Not the Queen and her Hero.”

“Zelda. I do not intend to put pressure on you.”

“You’re not. Let’s finish dinner and see what happens.”

What ends up happening is she changes into a fairly modest soft pink silk gown while he takes their dishes back to the kitchen. She is already under the duvet when he comes back and she pats the open side of the bed next to her. Amused, he takes off his boots and tunic, blows out the lamp on the side table and slides into bed in trousers and his undershirt. She snuggles herself under his right arm and rests her head on his shoulder. He rests his right hand on her ribs and kisses the top of her head.

“Do you think we would have liked each other as teenagers?” She asks.

He swallows a laugh. “Oh, goddesses. I don’t think you would have liked me as a teenager.”

“Why not?”

“Imagine this same mess before you, but with fewer coping skills and the subtlety of a teenage boy. I am lucky I was pretty, at least people would give me a chance. I am sure we would have clashed, hard.”

He takes his hand off her side to tangle it in her hair.

“It's funny; I’ve thought that if I had drawn the sword when I was sixteen I would have been better equipped for this, but I am starting to think maybe that wasn’t true.”

She shifts against him, and he is aware of every little place she touches him doing so. She stretches her arm across his chest and gives him a squeeze. They lay quiet in the dark. He slowly tumbles the events of his life that end with him sharing a bed with the queen of Hyrule in a no name inn on the road to Faron province. Her breathing deepens and slows, and he can feel her relax next to him.

“Sleep well, Zelda,” he whispers. “I.. I love you.”

She doesn’t respond. He closes his eyes and tries to sleep.

It’s still dark when he erupts out of the duvet in a panic - scrambling, heart galloping. His hands find her next to him and he wraps himself around her, panting and shaking. She startles awake in his grasp. “Sorry,” his voice is hoarse. “Nightmare. Just a nightmare.” He isn’t sure who he is trying to console. He still clutches her as though he is drowning.

“It’s okay, Link. Do you want to talk it out?”

“No.” He didn’t recall very much. Just darkness. A sound that might have been fire, a great, roaring fire, consuming anything before it. And fear, rising in his throat.

“Impa said you might have bad dreams.” She twists in his arms, and he loosens up, allowing her to roll to her side and face him.

“Impa said.”

“She also said you were a good cuddler.”

“I guess she would know.” He pauses. “I don’t have feelings like this for Impa. Maybe if things were different-“

“Link, you do not need to explain every little thing to me. It’s okay, I can see you are close. Come here,” She reaches her arms around him, pulling him in, and tucking his head under her chin. She strokes his hair. He finds it more comforting than arousing, and he drifts back to sleep.

They ride the next day to the next wide spot in the road with a small inn, though this one doesn’t have her portrait hanging over the hearth. They dine in the common room, and quietly watch the few patrons, holding hands across the table. He doesn’t protest the sleeping arrangements, and she doesn’t ask him to leave while she changes, though he does turn his back to give her privacy. She spoons up to him and he slips his arm around her waist, resting his hand on the curve of her belly. He breathes her in. She smells more like vanilla than lilacs and he wonders why. When he whispers  _ I love you _ to her she places her hand over his and gives it a squeeze.

There are no nightmares that night.

She wakes him in the morning, leaning into him with slow, light kisses, touching her lips along his jaw and down his neck until he pulls her to him, his mouth over hers, taking his time. Her hand slips under his shirt, and she trails her fingers across the scar sitting low on his abdomen. He sighs, savoring the pleasure in her touch, sliding his own hand to the swell of her hip when the knock on the door breaks their mood.

“You wanted to be up early, sir.” 

Link drops his head back against the pillow with a huff. Zelda leans to his ear, her voice soft and musical. 

“We have one more night of just being people. We can pick up when we stop for the night.”

“Lay with me tonight, Zelda” he whispers back. “Please.”

She answers him by taking his earlobe in her teeth for just a second before she pushes herself off him. She runs a finger on his lower lip, gazing at him. 

“Tonight.”

The ride to their final stop before Ordon is quiet and pretty. He is almost nervous as he gets the horses put up for the night and gets them a room. He feels the way he did when he stood before the Master Sword in its pedestal in the Temple of Time, what seemed a hundred years ago. He shakes his head, annoyed with the feeling.

They have dinner in the common room again, and sit across from each other holding hands and watching the activity of the inn. One other patron feels the need to comment how cute it was that they still held hands. Link said nothing to this, but the expression on his face seemed to stifle further comment. Zelda chuckles as the man stalked off, and then leaned across the table to whisper “Time for bed, old man.”

He nods and stands up. She slips her hand into his and lets him lead her to their room. Once inside, she turns to face him, taking his hands.

“Just Link and Zelda?” She asks, softly.

He takes her face in his hands. “Just Link and Zelda.” He leans in to meet her, open mouthed. She welcomes him in and slips her arms under his, stepping into an embrace. She runs her hands down his sides until she finds his belt and she uses that to haul him up against her. He breaks the kiss, breathlessly staring into the soft blue of her eyes, still cradling her head. He slowly slides his right hand down her throat, and traces her collarbone, starting at that notch in the center and slowly trailing out to her shoulder. He then starts downward, dragging his fingers over the rise of her breast, lingering there. She tightens her grip on his belt, pushing her hips into his. He drops both hands to the swell over her hips, and digs his fingers in before going back to her mouth and then biting her lip and dragging his tongue along her jaw to her ear. He finds that spot behind her ear lobe and begins to slowly kiss her along the side of her neck. Her hands slip off his belt, slide to his back and slip lower.

“Zelda,” he murmurs into her shoulder. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, but if we are going to stop, now is the time.”

She takes a deep breath against him and his mind whispers about what that might feel like without the layers of tunic and travel gown between them. It is several long minutes and all he can think about is the heat between them. “ _ Zelda _ .”

She stays still, her breath on the back of his neck, hands resting below the hollow of his back. She slowly slides her hands over the curve of his glute and gives him a squeeze. He inhales sharply, closing his eyes. He grips her hips and stays buried at her shoulder. He considers just pushing her up against the wall, as though she is some barmaid who has offered to spend the night with him.

And then she whispers. “I want to.”

He scoops her up in a fluid motion, one arm under her knees, the other supporting her back. She barks out a small sound in surprise, throwing her arms around his neck. He smiles and snatches a kiss from her before crossing the room to set her on the bed and turning his attention to undressing her, taking his time with the gown and what he discovers underneath.

They move slowly together, exploring and taking their time, though it’s like they have been together before. And maybe they have, in another life time. It’s lazy, and gentle and wonderful, small gasps and sighs, an occasional giggle. She is warm and welcoming to him. She feels the way he always thought home was supposed to feel. He revels in her; how she smells and tastes, the spark of her touch on his bare skin, the certainty of her weight on chest and pelvis. She whispers his name into his ear until her breaths grow ragged. Their pace together quickens to its crescendo before they fall back on each other. When they finally slow and rest, he is on his back with her on top of him, foreheads touching, his hands at her hips, a handful of the hair at the nape of his neck still in her fist, both of them naked and spent. 

All is right in Hyrule tonight. How could it be otherwise?

The morning comes too soon. They are awake before there’s a knock on their door. They ignore the interruption this time, letting the sound of the bed frame answer.

It is early afternoon as they find the cobblestone road that leads to Ordon and they ride in silence, save for the sound of shod hooves and chittering of insects. As the first outbuildings come into view, Link takes a deep breath, feeling the bubble he has been existing in the past three days collapse quietly. He feels another chapter, maybe another book closing behind him.

Zelda breaks the silence. “Queen of Hyrule and her chosen Hero again.”

He nods.

“I think I liked just Zelda and Link,” she says. “I hope there is room for that again.”

“I do, as well.” He closes his hands on his reins, bringing Epona to a halt that Zelda’s mount mimics. “Impa was right to warn us not to run off together. It’s a tempting idea.”

“It is,” she agrees.

They look at each other for a long moment.

“Are you ready?” She asks.

“No. I’ll never really be ready. But let’s do this.”

They ride into town at a walk and are immediately greeted by one of the riders that had been sent before them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL. I wrestled with some of this like...a lot. I really didn’t want to end up rating this explicit, so I went back and forth on how much to leave in. Perhaps at some point I’ll finish it up and toss it out as a side fic? We shall see.
> 
> Oh, it happened. [The Night Before Ordon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26924992)
> 
> Thank you for all the kudos and comments, I super appreciate all of them.
> 
> I also think I’m looking at 38 chapters/85k words to finish it up...though we shall see there too.


	31. Back in the Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kinda what the title says

“Your highness, it is good to see you here safe and sound,” the guard captain calls out a greeting as Link and Zelda ride into Ordon. “This region has gotten more dangerous with each day.”

“How so?” Asks Link.

“I would not have believed it if I had not seen it myself, but there’s a white maned lynel roaming these woods.”

Link shakes his head. He has seen too many things he did not think were real in the past year to question this. He has always been told lynels were real.

“Everyone is staying close to home until it leaves.”

Link and Zelda share a look. “We should get people out of here while there is time,” she murmurs. She directs her attention to the guardsman. “I will be meeting with the mayor of this town as soon as possible. Please find him and tell him. I will also need to see you and everyone else I sent ahead. You have birds that we can send back to the castle, as well, yes? I will be sending messages in the hour. Where can we set up a home base? I presume this town is large enough for an inn?”

“It is, your majesty, I believe their inn even has a suite. I will meet you there - it’s called Two Black Mares - with the mayor and the other guardsmen shortly.” The man turns on his heel and heads back into town.

“Welcome to Ordon, I guess,” says Link. “Let’s go find this inn.”

“Have you ever been here before?”

“Nooooo. Not me, at least.”

The inn is easily found, the great sign of two black horses, presumably mares, in profile, hanging above its entrance. Ordon seems about the size of Wolfpeak, though Link thinks it might be doing a little better than the northern settlement. The inn does have a larger set of rooms on its second floor and Zelda requisitions it as her war room as well as her bedroom. Link is a little disappointed to get his own space off the main floor after three nights of sharing a bed. He tries burying this feeling by telling himself it's for the best. He tells himself he knew the travel days were temporary. He tells himself that the things that started the day he wrapped his hands about the hilt of the Master Sword were running to their conclusion, and he needed his head focused on that. She had asked for discretion. There’s still a sting. 

_Fine. I don’t have to like it._

He doesn’t have much time to think things over as the guardsman is back with the three others from the advance detail; and the mayor of Ordon, Cosso, is being escorted to Zelda’s new field office before Link has had a chance to do much but drop his pack in his room. He hurries up the steps to take his place as she prepares to hold court.

The suite consists of a common room and a private bedroom. His apartment at the castle is slightly larger, but Zelda makes do. She has already had a table brought in and she sits at the head. She motions him to a seat on her right, and seats Cosso across from him.

“I am sorry to be so abrupt, your honor, but your holdings are in grave danger. I have reason to believe that Ordon is being targeted by the Curse of Demise. I am sure you have heard that the Hero of Hyrule has risen and claimed the Master Sword…”

Link realizes she is talking about him. He freezes his expression as he tries to decide exactly how he feels hearing this. The Hero of Hyrule has Risen to Claim the Master Sword. He still feels like he is just Link. It’s still odd to think under that title, even if it’s true. Even if he no longer tries to reject it immediately. He sets his jaw and focuses on a point in the center of the table and concentrates on Zelda’s voice. He abruptly realizes he is serving a symbol and pulls himself a little straighter, a little taller to look his part.

“As soon as we are done here, I will be sending messages back to the castle via pigeon to try and get more guards here as soon as possible. Those guards will assist in the evacuation of as many citizens of Ordon as possible, as soon as possible. I would like to send a group back to the castle tomorrow, in fact, with a pair of the guards that are already here. You will have safe haven in Castletown. I would like to hold a town hall meeting tonight to get information to as many as possible.

“If there are no questions, I would like to get started.”

“Your majesty,” Cosso starts. “I would be remiss if I did not ask what made you think Ordon was being targeted.”

“I have been advised there is a lynel wandering about some of the grazing land on the far outskirts of town, is that not true?”

“That is true, and we’ve pulled the goats off that area in hopes it will continue on.”

“It isn't a natural phenomena. Unusual types and sizes of monsters have been on the rise. In particular, they arrive a week or so before places get wiped off the map. Eldin’s Bridge is the latest casualty. We are here in hopes to prevent Ordon from being added to that list.”

She softens her tones. “I understand this is unusual, and sudden. I have seen four communities die literally overnight, in violent and strange ways. There are almost no survivors in all cases. Ordon has a rich history with Hyrule. Legend says that one of heroes of the past called Ordon his home. I cannot allow this place to be lost. Please let us prevent a tragedy.”

There is more back and forth. In the end, birds are released to Hyrule Castle and two hundred or so citizens of Ordon assemble in their town square to listen to Zelda implore them to gather what is important and irreplaceable to them and be ready to travel in the coming days. There are murmurs of quiet fear in the crowd. There have been enough credible sightings of the lynel to make the idea of an attack plausible. Not everyone is convinced. A few voices loudly proclaim they will be staying at their homes. 

It is nearly dark when things break up. Link is tired and hungry and ready to drop his hero of legend facade. He has stood silently by her side for hours in the square, quietly watching the crowd, taking note of dissenters. Zelda turns to him and drops her voice “Dinner in my quarters. I’ve already put in orders with the kitchen, it should be waiting.”

He gives a single nod of his head, relieved at the idea of downtime.

Dinner turns out to be braised goat in a savory sauce with mashed potatoes and some sort of greens. Link thinks he tastes goat cheese in the potatoes, as well. There’s some locally brewed beer, lighter than he typically likes, but it compliments the meal well. He falls on his meal with gusto, Zelda watching.

“This is good,” he reports, coming up for air. “It tastes a lot like lamb, I love lamb.”

“It’s amazing watching you eat.”

He stops, mid bite, and looks at her, question on his face.

“You’re very. _Enthusiastic._ ”

“I like to eat. I’m enthusiastic about other things, too.” He puts his fork down. “I’ll miss you tonight.”

She reaches across the table to take his hand. 

He forgets, for a little while, why they are having dinner in Ordon. He intertwines his fingers with hers. He could look at her forever. His heart swells and he tells her “I love you.”

She drops her eyes from his for just a second, but he sees it. “Link.”

“What’s wrong,” he asks. “Why is it hard for you to hear this? You’ve been loved before. Everyone knows you have.”

They sit, fingers interlaced, in silence. He is reminded of a night they went stargazing. He chooses his words with care. He ruined that night stargazing.

“Zelda. I’m not him. I won’t hurt you.” He pauses. “Let me in.”

He doesn’t think he’s ruined it this time. When she leans across the table, she kisses him, soft and it feels full of promise. But she stops and says “Good night, Link. My head knows you are right, my heart is slow to follow.”

He takes her hand and presses his lips to it. “Good night, Zelda, I love you.”

He heads to his room on the main floor. It’s a long night. He tells himself it shouldn’t matter if she doesn’t say the words. They are just words. Surely, she has shown in her actions what she feels, even if she can’t say it. He curses this other Link, wherever he might be. Who had he thought he was?

He is slightly bleary the next morning, hands wrapped around a huge mug, thankful there’s cream to be had, sucking down coffee as fast as he can. Zelda seems better rested and he watches her over his mug as she glides through the common room, projecting serenity and calm, offering her blessings to those who have already packed and are ready to head to Castletown with the first pair of riders, set to head out mid morning. 

She finds him, and places a hand on his shoulder before leaning down to his ear. “We need to plan our next move this morning, after the first group sets out. I fear time is growing short.”

He nods, and brings the mug to his lips, imagining the warm liquid inside is somehow her.

It’s a small group, maybe a dozen, including the two recon riders. There are a couple horses, one hitched to a small buckboard, with three or four children huddled in the back. Link and Zelda see them off, assuring safe passage (he hopes that will be true) and telling them they will see them at the castle when things are safe. They watch them head north, and wait until the group is out of sight.

“Well,” says Zelda. “Let’s go inside and figure our next move.”

He nods, again. He is still tired, and follows her back to the inn, where she takes a seat in the common room.

“Are you okay?” She asks.

“I’m fine, just didn’t sleep well.”

She folds her hands in front of her, and frowns slightly. “I hope you didn’t have nightmares?”

He shakes his head. “No. Just didn’t sleep well.”

She is suddenly business. “I know we don’t have many eyewitness reports, but it seems like these attacks start in the center squares of their targets. I think we should bury the portal stones in the square, so they are ready, but hidden.”

“I might hold one back,” he offers. “But mark the place it goes. This way we retain control of it.”

“That seems reasonable.”

“This afternoon’s project then?”

She nods. They sit in silence for a moment. Then “Link.”

He meets her eyes.

“I hope you were not up late because-“

He cuts her off. “It’s ok, Zelda.”

She stops. He wants to reach out to her and take her hand, but there are too many people filtering through the common room. 

“Go take a nap, Link. We can set them later.”

It’s mid afternoon when he meets her back in the town square, as she marks out where to place the stones. He switches the amethyst he has been holding for the topaz, since that’s the stone that goes in the far corner of his triangle. He hefts it, recalling the anger he felt when he threw it at her feet. 

He still wants her to say it, even as he tells himself the words aren’t important. Surely, there is something else he can set his mind to, instead of waiting for things to happen. 

“Zelda.” He suddenly says. “I need to go clear my head. I am not good at waiting for things. I’m going to go scout around. I think I need to be alone for a bit.”

“Be careful.”

He is careful, and he takes himself out to where the lynel has been spotted. He hasn’t ever seen one before, but it was the one creature that he had been assured existed when he was training. Silver moblins and dragons might be stories, but lynels were very very real, and very very dangerous.

Fortunately, they were also rare.

As he heads out to the grazing area where the creature has been seen, he reflects that a year ago, there would have been no way he would have sought out this encounter. After what he has seen, how bad could it be?

He does see it, after an hour of quietly and slowly wandering the edges of a large field. It’s back is to him, so he drops to a squat and stills himself to watch. It’s such an odd thing, he thinks, with it’s huge, horse like body, and the torso of a horned monster where the head and neck should be. It is constantly on high alert, scanning and sniffing, tossing its head and the long white mane of hair growing down its back. It’s body is covered in stripes of shades of blue. The creature patrols in endless circles, dinner plate sized hooves crushing vegetation beneath them. Link can see there’s a path the beast has worn in its circuits.

Not much is known about Lynels. They are fierce and deadly. They attack on detection. Their eyesight seems poor, but their hearing acute. They carry weapons. Link can see the distinct shape of an improbable spear on the beast’s back. This one also has a bow. They must make them, but they are only ever seen alone, patrolling in circles like this one.

Is there a place they live and have families, he wonders. Where do they teach each other to make those weapons, and how to fight? What makes them so aggressive? It seems so independent. Why are they associated with trouble for Hyrule? He leans forward a little to better follow its movements.

The lynel abruptly stops, planting its forefeet and whipping its head around to Link’s direction. Link holds his breath and freezes, hoping to blend in with his surroundings and vanish from the beast’s attention. It is oddly like a spooked horse, all tension, but focused instead of panicking. After several long minutes, it resumes its circling. Once it is on the far side of its path, Link slowly stands and slips away, back into the woods and to Ordon. He keeps to himself the rest of the day, wondering if the lynel understands its role in this endless cycle any better than he does.

The next few days are a blur. A group of guards arrive from the castle, on lathered, exhausted horses. They are remounted as more small groups of Ordonians are sent to safety. He hopes they are going to safety, at least. 

Soon, it is just him and Zelda again, but with a handful of town leaders refusing to abandon ship, and a half dozen or so who just don’t believe anything is going to happen. They wait, wondering if Impa’s prediction was correct.

He has lost count of his days in Ordon. Five? Maybe six? He is pretty sure it’s six. The last of the evacuees left the afternoon before, and it’s eerily quiet this morning. The day is sunny and warm, at least, and he nurses a cup of coffee on the long covered porch of the inn, watching nothing happen in the town square. Zelda pulls a chair next to him and takes a seat.

For a long time, they just sit in each other’s company.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you,” she finally says, staring out into the square.

“We’ve both been busy.” It feels good to have her to himself again, more or less.

She murmurs an agreement. There’s another long moment, and they break the silence together.

“I saw the lynel the other day.”

“Do you want to go for a walk?”

They finally look at each other. Her eyes are a little wide. “ _You saw the lynel?_ ”

“Yes! I can take you to see it. We need to be very quiet though. And maybe wear something darker colored, that pink and white dress is going to stand out.”

“Give me a moment.”

************

A couple hours later, he takes her hand to help her up over a fallen log on their path, placing a finger over his lips to indicate they are close. She is in a dark green tunic, pants and boots she managed to borrow from somewhere. He pulls her close, to whisper right in her ear.

“We are almost there. I’m not taking you as close as I got, but we should still be able to see him. We have to be dead quiet.” He wishes the beast were not nearby. There’s pleasure in just being so close to her, and the Wood is such a pretty place to spend time with someone. He pushes this away. Not with a lynel nearby.

He finds a spot at the edge of the woods, with enough cover for them to hide, but with a clear view of the path worn into open grass. He touches her shoulder and points and they both settle to wait for it to appear.

Link isn’t sure how much time has passed, but it feels like the lynel should have made its way across their vision by now. He rises on his toes and squints.

Zelda shifts and points to another spot where the woods join the clearing. A doe steps out of the cover of the woods, ears flicking, head slowly turning, looking for danger. She steps out further into the grass, looking, listening. Finally satisfied that she is safe, she drops her head to graze. Link holds his breath and looks to the path trampled in the grass.

Nothing. He lets his breath out and drops his lips to her ear. “We should have seen him by now. He must have moved on. That deer would not be so comfortable if he were here.”

His eyes float over the curve of her cheek and the shape of her ear. Has it been six days, seven? since he got to stand so very close to her. He closes his eyes and inhales her scent, vanilla, sweat, a little bit of the woods they have wandered through.

He reaches out and tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear. She shifts her head, just a little, as though asking what he is doing.

“Was there _really_ a lynel?” He can barely hear her.

“There was,” he whispers into her ear. He leans closer and gently presses his lips at that spot where her jawline met her ear. He nips the skin and begins to work his way down her neck as she sighs and relaxes into him. She stretches her neck to the side as he slides his teeth and tongue to the hollow of her shoulder, burying his face for a moment.

And then she stiffens and stifles a gasp. He pauses. That reaction didn’t seem to be for him. He picks his head up a little, as the sword on his back _thrums_ through the scabbard on his back.

“Zelda?”

Link hears it, smoke on silk. “Ah. The goddess incarnate and the spirit of her chosen hero. Nice of you to arrive out here together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone. Not dead. Actually kinda doing okay for now. I've been churning away behind the scenes. I missed you all.
> 
> Thanks for kudos and comments, trust me, it makes my day to wake up to some email from AO3 no matter what it is.


	32. Trash Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of the end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Please check out the art I commissioned for this fic!](https://drsteggy.tumblr.com/post/630649637507842048/hey-so-i-wanted-to-put-these-two-together-i)

Link straightens up and turns to the voice, face flushed.  _ He should have known. _ He should have known. That lynel wasn’t just going to wander off. He sees the doe bounding off, tail flagged in alarm. 

Damien isn’t in striking distance. He leans over his big black sword and is still taller than Link. There is a grin on his face and he seems giddy, amused at catching them. Zelda is staring him down, fury in her eyes. He turns his head to meet her glare.

“Are you fucking your hero yet, Hylia?”

Link feels his eyes widen at the question.  _ Vulgar, so vulgar.  _ He glances quickly at Zelda, but she seems unfazed, staring stonily at Damien. Link can smell magic twisting around them, making the hair on the back of his neck rise.

“I  _ said _ ,” Damien speaks loudly and slowly. “Are you _ fucking _ your hero yet, Hylia? It’s a simple question.”

She continues to stare him down. Link can feel her drawing up power. The emotion coming off her isn’t exactly anger, but it seems like a cousin to it.

He turns to Link, after maintaining his stare with Zelda a long moment. “And is your goddess good in bed, at least?”

Link finds it so hard to stay afloat in all the magic that surrounds him. The question is shocking to him and he does not feel it deserves an answer. But he feels what he feels, and he gives one, anyway. 

“I love her.” He tries to sound confident and sure. He hears Zelda stifle some small sound.

“You love her.” Damien laughs, and Link dislikes the tone. He feels his cheeks heat. There’s an inexplicable worm of confusion in him, deep down. He  _ does _ love her, and how is that wrong or shameful? 

“Distractions, old man.” the younger man gives his head a shake. “That wasn’t the question. Do you know your own history, hero? Do you know how she had you imprisoned and claimed it was to temper you, as though you were some blade to be used? Do you know you died doing her bidding, before she revealed that to you? And then she chained your soul to this cycle? She  _ uses _ you, hero. You are but a tool before her. When you break, she will just get another. She promises you love, but she cannot deliver it. You will end like the rest, broken hearted and yearning for what you cannot have. I hope she was a good lay for you. At least you’ll have that. She  _ never _ loves you back.”

There’s a tiny voice in the back of his mind, and it whispers. It reminds him that he has told her his feelings, many times, and she has yet to reciprocate. He closes his eyes and inhales. She  _ must _ love him back. Her actions speak where her voice is unable. She must.

“See, Chosen of Farore? You already know that in your heart, don’t you?”

He may not know all of his history, but he knows that first Zelda chose her Link because she knew he would follow her without question. That Link loved his Zelda. Did she love him back? What did Damien mean about imprisoning? Or chaining his soul to this cycle? He swallows and looks to her for guidance.

“ _ STOP. _ ” Hisses Zelda. “I love him. I always have.” She turns to meet Link’s eyes. There is something behind her own he has not seen before. It’s terrible and sacred and he has to breathe deeply before it. The sword on his back vibrates again.  _ Oh, this is really happening. _

“Link,” her voice is different, almost multiple voices. “LINK. Know I love you. We are bound, but this is real. I told you that when you sought my counsel.”

He closes his eyes and takes a breath. This is so much  _ more _ than he imagined. 

And then.

Softly, in his ear, the quiet music of her own voice, like he has heard on her balcony, or murmured into his ears during their days enroute to Faron.

“Link. I’m sorry. Have faith in me.”

There’s a bright flash of light that cuts through his closed eyes. He startles, opening them and swings his head toward it in time to see Zelda drawing back on that magical, impractical bow and loosening a light arrow. She follows it quickly with a second and a third. Damien seems surprised and flings himself back to avoid the volley. She turns to Link and says. “Back to Ordon. We need to be near the stones.” He nods and they dart back into the woods, following the goat trails back to town as quickly as they can. Their pace is too fast for conversation, and he is full of questions that he isn’t sure he really wants answers to. He pushes them away desperately. He needs to get away from those doubts, at least for now. 

_ You’re the hero of Hyrule and chosen by the Sword that Seals the Darkness. You bear the Triforce of Courage, and it is time, finally, to be brave. _

_ Don’t be distracted. _

He pushes his stride a little harder, conscious of Zelda at his heels, making sure to keep close to her. He has no idea if they are being followed or how. He isn’t sure if the roar in his ears is really behind him, or just in his head. At some point, he turns and grabs her wrist, dragging her along in his wake. He stumbles, sprawling onto his chest and pulling her down with him. She plants her hand on his back, pushing herself up before reaching out to help him up. 

“Please tell me you have that topaz, Link. On you, right now.”

He nods, patting the pocket of his trousers.

“Let's go, he could already be there.”

“Zelda, what did he mean about prison? Is that true?”

She has been completely in command. Her brow furrows and eyes soften at his question. “Link, we don’t have time right now. I can tell you when we are on the other side of this, I promise.” She touches his cheek with her hand. “You’re not a tool. You’re not. And he lies. I need your help so there  _ is _ an other side. Please.”

He has come this far. He is not who he was in the Temple of Time, wincing under the title of hero. She has helped lead him here, reforged him to who he is now. He decides he still trusts her. He never pushed her deeply for his own history, not really, and it’s too late now. He takes her hand off his face, closing it in his own, and turns toward Ordon, heading for the square where they have placed the portal stones.

He is relieved to hear the clack of cobblestone under his boots when they finally arrive and he drops her hand to hastily toss the topaz into place. They take the positions they’ve practiced. He draws the sword and swings that big blue shield forward. He drops his head a little, relaxes his hips and knees, ready to react, clearing his mind, ready. Zelda draws herself up. She isn’t casting yet, but she is also ready.

They wait. The square grows quiet. Its as though everything holds its breath. 

They wait.

The attack does not come. His adrenaline ebbs, heart rate slowing to normal. He straightens up, and turns to Zelda. She is also at ease.

“Wasn’t he behind us?” He asks.

“This is a trap. It has to be.”

“Do you think he is still coming here? What if he has decided to go somewhere else while we are here?”

“He hasn’t left,” she says, flatly. “I can still feel him. He’s here, he’s waiting for us to drop our guard.”

“How long do we wait?”

She shakes her head.

His mind starts wandering. It’s not exploring anything useful. He didn't remember being imprisoned, at least not for long. He tries to sort through the pieces and images that came with the sword, but there’s never a direct narrative. It’s just parts.

“Zelda. What did he mean you-Hylia had me-the chosen hero, whatever- imprisoned? Why?”

She huffs a sigh. “This isn’t the time.”

“And what was that about chaining my soul to this cycle, Zelda? Why not now?”

She draws a sharp breath inward, and there is grit to her voice. “I think that story will hurt you.  _ Really _ hurt you. You have been hurt your entire life, Link, by people who have been careless with you who shouldn’t have, and you seem to have had no idea until recently. I will not be careless with you. You deserve better than what you’ve gotten. I will tell it to you, but not without making sure you’re in a safe place to hear it.” She finally turns to him. “ _ That _ is an expression of love.”

He holds his breath as she speaks. She keeps catching him like this, telling him things he never thought of about himself, and he is continually shocked to feel she is right. He has nothing to say and just stares at her, feeling like he has finally been seen for everything he is.

“I’m sorry that I have a hard time mustering the words.” she continues, softer. “ I know they seem so simple, and you probably need to hear them spoken. You need to hear them spoken a lot. I don’t think you’ve heard it enough and I’m sorry I couldn’t. I’m sorry. I hoped you would just see the truth and that would be enough.” She breathes out and a sad smile crosses her lips. “And right now, saying those words seems cheap. I wish I had just said them before. I didn’t understand how important it was for you to hear them.”

He holds his position, but looks over to her. He wants to take her in his arms, but he holds his place instead. She looks at him and seems a little sad. “I’m sorry,” she says again. 

They wait all day. The sun sinks in the west, and twilight creeps in, the sky darkens, the moon rises and nothing happens. Link and Zelda retire to chairs on the inn’s porch and sit in silence. He quietly turns her words over in his head when he isn’t wondering why they are being left to stew.

“Is he waiting for midnight? Seems cliche?” Link finally asks, not expecting an answer. “Is he waiting for us to sleep?”

“I don’t know, but he is still out there.”

Link leans forward on his thighs and shifts to get more comfortable. He stares out into the square noting where the five stones making up the base of the Triforce sit and he wonders why it’s not the entire Triforce.  _ You’d only need one more stone, _ he thinks. He slowly turns this idea over. What if there was a sixth stone, and bearer of the Triforce of Power took that corner? If he and Zelda opened a portal to who knows where, what happened when the third joined in?

He was so far down this road in his head that he didn’t notice the spoiled sweetness in the air right away. He sees Zelda startle to her feet and rises, sword out before he realizes he’s touched the hilt.

And then it's gone, leaving Link alert and riding a surge of adrenaline. “What was that about?”

Zelda shakes her head and frowns. “There and gone. I’m not sure what he is doing. Playing, almost.”

“Do you think you could sleep out here?” he asks. “Maybe you should try. I’ll stand watch.”

“What about you?”

“At the very beginning of this, it felt like I didn’t really need to sleep, maybe I can tap back into that. I’ll try, anyway.” He remembers being  _ so _ tired just the other day, before he’d gone to see the lynel. “There’s still a few people hanging around, aren't there? Maybe get someone to make some food? I don’t know. I don’t know.

“We can’t both stay up all night, Zelda. We need to take turns or something.”

She crosses her arms and lowers her head for a moment. “I’ll see about sleeping out here. I don’t like splitting up.”

“I don’t either, but you’re just a yell away out here.”

She heads inside and Link flips the blade upward to try and catch his reflection on the steel, but there’s not enough moonlight. He flutters his eyelids closed and huffs, trying to quiet his mind and reach out to the sword. It's been a while since its spoken to him.

_ I need to stay awake, how do I do that? I think I was doing it before? _

**_Master, deliberately seeking sleep deprivation is foolish._ **

_ But maybe necessary. How? _

There was no answer other than a sense of disapproval. Link took his chair again, and laid the sword across his lap, tracing the triforce embossed on the blade with a finger and reaching for an answer.  _ Come on, someone must have done it. _

His meditation is interrupted by Zelda dragging some bedding out and setting up a spot on the porch. “It seems like everyone left in this town is up tonight,” she comments. “Everyone’s unsettled. I asked for them to brew some coffee, too.”

“Oh, good idea.” He gets up and assumes a relaxed stance that he can hold for a while. It will be easier to stay up while on his feet. He swings the sword point down between his feet and rests his hands on the hilt, ready to stand watch through the night. Someone-Link isn’t sure who-leaves a couple plates of food for them and a pot of coffee. Link pours himself a mug, sipping it as he stands, looking out over the square and waits. Zelda settles down and seems to fall asleep.

About an hour later, she shrieks from her bedding, and he whips around, sword at the ready. She has propped herself up on her hands, eyes wide, panting. He crosses the distance between them in three strides and squats down. “What happened?”

“Nightmare.  _ Oh _ . Nightmare.”

He scoops her into an embrace. “You’re okay now.”

“Oh I don’t think I’m going back to sleep after that.”

“What happened?”

She shakes her head, leaning into him and he folds over her, stroking her hair the way she has done for him. It’s peaceful for nearly a minute and then she stiffens up and he smells twisted magic. He is on his feet, hauling her up with him, sword still in hand. It’s gone almost as soon as it registers, leaving them both abruptly alert. He feels like it’s just floating over a growing weariness in him.

“This is deliberate.” She says. “He is keeping us awake. He is planning on dulling us first.”

“What are we supposed to do, then? We already walked into this.” Frustration bubbles up in him. He should have insisted on laying a trap at the castle. He shakes his head. “What are we supposed to do?”

“Let me think.”

He steps aside to give her some room. It’s easy to start spiraling on his current situation, and spiraling is only going to make things worse. He needs to dig in, he thinks, and find something to settle him. What he finds is that second day they looked out over Hyrule field from that ridge in Tabantha. He finds the three days they traveled to Ordon, happily ignoring destiny and fate in favor of just being two regular people. 

“I wish,” he mutters. “We were just Link and Zelda again.”

Zelda turns her head toward him, and raises an eyebrow. “What did you say?”

“I said, ‘I wish we were just Link and Zelda again’”

She cocks her head and looks forward. “Link and Zelda,” she whispers. “Link and Zelda.”

She stares forward, whispering their names. Link watches her. She draws herself up, suddenly. “We are less ready to accept new things as we get older,” Her voice shifts again and he isn’t sure if he is hearing another Zelda. Or Hylia herself. Link wonders why he ever thought he was agnostic. She tilts her head, staring out into the square. “We think we know how the world works at some point and that’s the end of it. We just stop seeing that things could be different.”

“You might start your adventure, hero, by waking up one day and thinking things are different for you, without understanding the depth. You still try to trundle along like nothing has changed. Perhaps we’ve both failed to appreciate how different things are for both of us.”

She laughs and it’s a joyful sound that sharply contrasts with Link’s mood. 

“I’m guilty of it, too,” she smiles. “I was raised knowing I might be a physical manifestation of a goddess and I forget who I am because I am used to what I was. I have power I still haven’t thought to tap. So do you.”

“Link.” She turns to face him and her eyes have that terrible and wonderful thing inside them again. He catches his breath and tightens his hands on the hilt of the sword, feeling a prickle run through his palms and up his forearms. The back of his right hand warmed and tingled. Odd visions start to bubble in the back of his head, for the first time in a long while - a mirror shatters, and he is swept up in grief over it. He had worked so hard to maintain himself and not drown in the floodwaters of the sword’s legacy. Maybe he should have just learned to swim.

“It will be okay, Link. You will still have you. Let them show you.”

He lets his breath out, and it stutters a little. It’s been months since he felt the white water of memories rise in him, he’s been able to keep it controlled, with only bits leaking out here and there. What happens if it swallows him?

_ You can’t be brave if you’re not scared. _

He plunges himself into the mix swirling in his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I’m at the top of the stretch here. I suspect I’m looking at 37 chapters total, give or take. I still think it’s under a hundred k, though maybe *just* under.
> 
> I think I started playing with the idea of an older Link and the sword about a year ago. I had no idea it would end up here. There’s probably COVID to thank for that.


	33. A Link to the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Embrace who you are. You always have power, but you need to tell yourself to use it.

It’s like falling into a crowd, but one larger than he has ever seen in his life, and everyone is vying for his attention. He has to remember to stop struggling to be himself in here, he needs to remember to surrender to the commotion in his own head. It’s hard. He has been himself for more than forty years. It’s a comfortable space for him, it’s what he knows. He is afraid to give it up, but he is afraid to die again, too, and it seems like holding fast to himself ends there.

So he falls, and hopes he will be caught.

He has fallen before, a long way. She had pushed him, thinking he was teasing her when he said he’d lost his loftwing. _Just call him, Link._ And he had, but the bird never came, and then suddenly there she was rescuing him. He thinks he may have returned the favor at some point, after chasing her down so many strange passageways, with just the sword as a guide, and endlessly dogged by...someone, something? Something that seemed to find him an annoyance at first before realizing that he was more formidable than he appeared.

He would have gone to the end of the world for her. He had.

They never quite matched up the same way after that. Sometimes they just didn’t, like when he spent half his time as a wolf in some shadow version of the world he knew, pressed into service for her, he supposed, but spending all his time with a different princess who abandoned him in the end and made it so he could not follow.

Sometimes their relationship was simply business, like the time he had blurred himself so badly hopping back and forth between the age of nine and sixteen. But she had been there to help him on his way, though he had no idea who she was for a long time.

Sometimes he felt more like a mercenary, though no one had actually hired him, he’d just heard there was a wrong to right and off he’d gone without much thought. 

And there were so many times they were ships passing in the night, because there was no need for a hero, so maybe he served in her army, or as some trusted member of her house staff, or never made it to the castle to cross her path in the first place.

But once in a while, they met again, and remembered what they had meant to each other before anything else had seen fit to insert themselves.

He doesn’t get caught, exactly. But his fall ends without harm, and the crowd seems to disperse. It’s just him and some other presence. A spokesman of sorts, he supposed.

“This round wasn’t supposed to happen, was it?” he asks.

_“The Chosen of Farore is nearly always unaware of his role until it’s thrust upon him. Even then maybe it’s not obvious for a while. Hylia knows who she is, almost from the moment her mortal form can understand such things. Demise actively seeks their player. But you and I and those like us we are a secret unless we are needed. There’s usually a Zelda, and there’s a Link shortly after. There isn’t always a Demise though, their cycle takes longer than ours.”_

Link isn’t sure who he is speaking with. He isn’t sure he is actually speaking. He thinks it’s the one referred to as the Hero of Time because he seems to shift, sometimes being a very small boy, younger than Kobin, and sometimes he’s a teenager, though perhaps one who saw too much, too soon. And every once in a while he’s just a skeletal thing in a horned helmet, missing an eye.

_“There was no holder of power when you first put your hands on the sword. We saw you, but it wasn’t going to be a time for you to rise. And two years later, there was a child born. And when you were thrown off your horse, the one the moblin killed, that child was making decisions that set him on his path._

_“And then, about nine months before you last visited the Temple of Time, he made a deal, sealing his fate and yours.”_

The Hero of Time is just a boy again, but when Link looks into that young face, framed by light blonde hair, the blue eyes looking back at him are unspeakably old, eternal.

“He is trying to wear us down. I think I can take him. I know Zelda and I together can. We have run him off twice. But not if we are exhausted. Can you help me, us?”

The boy hero turns away from him and sighs. When he turns back, the planes of his face are sharper, and he’s gotten taller, his shoulders broader. He runs a hand through the front of his hair. Link notes he is wearing the hat. He wonders if he wears the same gear this hero does, or if it’s just a replica.

 _“You are more powerful than you know, Chosen of Farore. You always have been. You just need to be open to it.”_ He meets Link’s eyes. The Hero of Time’s eyes haven’t changed. _“It is harder to be open because you think you know how the world is. You need to reject what you think you know. It’s not easy. You already have this in you. You limit yourself needlessly. Embrace who you are.”_

Link is silent. 

_“Your experience is not a liability. I rushed in and opened the Sacred Realm, letting the enemy in. I claimed the sword before I could really use it, and I sat out for seven years while he did his damage. I let that happen. All I saw was finishing the task I’d been given. You consider your actions. It just makes your journey different.”_

“I don’t...how do I just...not. Be tired?” 

The hero before him sighs and shakes his head, seeming frustrated. _“Embrace what you are. You limit yourself. You have already been more when you have forgotten where you think you end.”_

Link tries to stifle an annoyed huff, and puts his fingers at his temples. The conversation seems circular, and he fights with his inclination to ignore this advice he has sought. It doesn’t make sense. He doesn’t like riddles. He just wants to know what to do. 

“I don’t understand.”

The Hero of Time gazes at him, and those ageless eyes soften for a fraction of a second before that horned helmet flickers over his visage. He is quickly a weary teen again. Link wonders if he has control over how he looks.

_“Be open. Open yourself. You are more than you think. You might not be divine, but you are blessed. Open the gifts you’ve been given.”_

Link wants to scream. He inhales deeply instead. He reminds himself he came looking for help. He needs to figure out this advice. He asked for this.

And one more thing.

“I need to know,” he says, flatly. “Did you love her? Can she…”

The young man with the ageless eyes shakes his head. _“I hope this answer opens your eyes. I loved another. Zelda is the person. Hylia is divine. The immortal are different from us, and they play different games. Hylia doesn’t understand what you feel and what you want. She might think she does, but she can’t. She can’t._

_“Zelda is mortal. She serves as a vessel, but there is a person there. Be careful, Chosen of Farore, though maybe you’re already too far down this road. Guard your heart, but know your duty. The former won’t matter if you fail at the latter.”_

He considers asking more questions in this vein and decides to save them for Zelda.

“So just stop being tired.”

The teenager whirls on him, suddenly bone and encased in damaged armor, and whatever has been passing as a voice is eldritch and threatening. _“Embrace what you are. Spirit of the Hero. Holder of the Triforce of Courage. Chosen of Farore and the Master Sword.”_ He is back to a chubby cheeked boy. He’d be adorable if he didn’t look so haunted. _“You have power. Use it.”_

The white water throws him back out into the spaces of his own mind and he is...not really alone, he thinks. But it is quieter, and he can breathe again.

_Find your power. Embrace what you are._

He needed to figure this out quickly. 

_Be open._

What was he then? He is _not_ someone who thought everything was fine, even though he left a string of failed relationships behind him, with family, with lovers. Not anymore. He had not felt worthy of anyone’s time, not really, though he’d never seen it. He had been okay. He thought he had been okay.

Everything had been fine.

But it never had been. Not really.

Not really. He just didn’t know.

It hadn’t been his fault he had been broken, and believed broken was just how things were. He was more than being broken. He knew that now.

Every monster he had faced, he had beaten, even if it had left him with scars and nightmares, he had still come out of the dungeons. There were people who saw him, really saw _him_ and not some version they hoped for. There were people who would come to his rescue and make a place for him, because they cared about him. He might be an old dog, but if he could open to all of this in the past year, maybe there was more to open to.

_Embrace what you are._

And what is he now?

“I’m the Hero of Hyrule,” he whispers, trying it on, for real, this time. Then, in his normal voice. “I’m the Hero of Hyrule. I bear the Triforce of Courage. I have been chosen by Hylia to serve the Queen with the blood of the goddess.”

He says this without flinching or shying away from the words. He is finally worthy of them. There is no going back now. 

“I am Link, and I am the Hero of Hyrule.”

There is power in owning this, he realizes. He feels like more than he has been. Maybe this is what the Hero of Time meant. “I am Link…”

And he is plunged back into himself, for a moment aware how bone weary he is, and the old fracture is starting to sing, and his hips are thinking about joining in, and…

No. 

The sword is still in his hand. He swings the blade up to a ready position, narrowing his eyes to focus on a target that’s not there yet.

“I am the Hero of Hyrule,” he snarls. “I am blessed by the goddess Hylia herself, Chosen of Farore. And I am ready for _you._ ”

The air thickens and curdles with twisted magic. He holds his form, letting it flow through him. He senses more than sees Zelda to his left, her big, impractical bow at the ready.

“It’s time, Link.” She says, not taking her eyes off some point in the distance. “It’s finally time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s a couple of chunks to actually write, but it seems to be done. If you told me a year ago that I had over 80k of a fanfic in me, I would have laughed pretty long and hard about that. But here we are.
> 
> I really appreciate everyone reading along and letting me know. It’s been a really good week on that front, so thank you so very much.


	34. Show Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boss Battle

The flicker at the edge of his vision puts him into motion. He doesn’t think, he just flows, flipping the big blue shield up while turning to his right in time to catch the jagged black blade as it comes down. There’s the sound of steel on steel. He feels the impact in his shoulder and he lets it rock him back, just a little. Link raises his eyes over the edge of the shield to meet Damien’s gaze. There is a little moment where Link feels the back of his right hand warm, recognizing the being before him.

“Nice reflexes, old man,” his adversary sneers and the black sword presses down on Link’s shield. Link locks his eyes on his enemy, and pushes back, holding his ground. The back of his right hand continues to heat until it burns. He imagines he can smell it, but maybe that’s just magic. Link’s upper lip twists into a snarl, he is tempted to bare his teeth.

Damien meets Link’s stare and he smiles, red hair flowing about him like flames. “Nothing to say, old man?” Link does not drop his eyes as he tries to take in as much about what his adversary is wearing, and where he might be able to slip his blade in between leather and chainmail.

And then Damien lightens up on the shield, just a little, but Link has been waiting for an opening. He surges forward, pushing the shield ahead of him and to the side, pushing the sword away. He swings his right hand savagely. The blade of Evil’s Bane is awake in his grip. The master sword finds a small unarmored space above Damien’s hip and bites, though not as deeply as Link had hoped for. He hears a hiss of pain and knows he has scored at least.

“I don’t need words,” mutters Link, pulling his blade back. It’s not really blood on the blade. Blood doesn’t smoke like that. He keeps the shield up, his attention on his enemy. He can feel past heroes turning their focus on him.

_Remember who you are. It’s time to rise._

He has had moments in his life before where he has felt like he was doing what he was made to do. Small ones, fleeting. He has never seen it in the moment before. Somehow, every step he has taken has brought him to this. Somehow, he is ready. 

He draws his sword arm back again for another swing.Time seems to slow for him. He moves with purpose and deliberation, confidant finally that all the work he has done will see him through this. His opponent telegraphs another blow towards him and he pulls his entire body back to avoid it, feeling the dark steel cut through the air close by. This time when he swings his arm forward, he hopes to land the blade in his foe’s neck.

He misses that target, tip of his blade skittering across a breastplate, but only because he didn’t take his own height into account. 

And he leaves his right side open. _Mistake_ , he thinks, _bad mistake._

_You can fix this mistake._

He isn’t sure whose idea it is, but he lets the tip of the sword lead him into a spin, and by the time Damien’s sword comes down again, it's greeted by the shield. Steel on steel, impact to his shoulder, this time he doesn’t let it step him back. He does let himself smile, just a little.

The flash of light comes from over his left shoulder. He barely registers it. A shooting star, there and gone. Damien sees it though, eyes wide, and manages to jerk himself back to avoid the light arrow. At least the first one. The third in the volley hits his right shoulder, burying itself into the leather chestplate. Link sees the wince, but guesses that perhaps the head of the arrow doesn’t make it through layers of leather and cloth to flesh.

Damian leans more weight on his sword, and Link holds. It’s just meant to pin him, though, as Damien turns his attention to Zelda. “I need your blood to consecrate the throne in the castle when I take it. I can just use your head though.” 

He turns back to Link. “I’ll end you later,” It’s almost too fast to track, but he swings his sword up and uses the flat of the blade to swipe Link off his feet, striking his left knee and sending him sprawling. He falls hard on his hip, and then his shoulder, dropping shield and sword with a grunt. By the time he has pushed himself up on his knees, Damien has crossed the distance to Zelda, who is scrambling back while trying to draw the bow. By the time he is on his feet, Zelda has her back against the entrance of the inn, and Damien is too close for the bow to be useful, and she can’t get a full draw, anyway, not with her back against the wall and what did he mean about just her head? 

By the time he has recovered his sword and shield, she has made the bow vanish, and in its place is a rapier that seems to be made of the same magic infused metal as her bow. When had she gotten a rapier, he wonders. He would have worked with her with that, he would have enjoyed sparring with her, when did she get a blade? He starts to run toward her.

She isn’t very good with it. Why had she pulled this out now, when they had three days of traveling and was it a week now, in Ordon, they could have been practicing, why hadn’t she told him, oh, Hylia, that grip isn’t even good. Was this a product of panic? He had closed the distance by now and has Damien's entire back to him. He rears his right arm back and takes aim at his adversary’s hamstrings, throwing all his strength into the swing, snarling with effort. The blade hits home, opening up a line across the back of Damien’s right thigh. Link hears the grunt and sees the blood ( _the smoke_ ) and knows he has scored. 

Damien ignores him.

Ignores him, and raises that jagged black blade, Time slows again as Link watches it swing forward in a low arc to strike Zelda right between her hip and rib cage, right where everything is soft and vulnerable, and they had not thought to put her in chainmail, why hadn’t they considered that? She is thrown aside, a broken toy, and there’s blood, a lot of blood and he doesn’t want to think about what else might be exposed.

Damien turns to where she has landed, seemingly intent on finishing her. With a growl, Link darts in front of him, trying to make himself as wide and tall as he can.

“Really, Hero?”

Link says nothing. He can still see her blood spilled on the ground in his mind, and he remembers tasting his own the day he died. He wants to help her, but turning his back just gets them both killed. He stands his ground, and relaxes his hips and knees just a little, ready to move, focused on the figure in front of him.

“You don’t need to be part of this, old man. Step aside.”

Link wonders how long she can lay on the ground, how long before it’s too late, even for a red potion. He still has one, maybe two, he is pretty sure. She had given them to him before she had sent him out that first time to Faron, trying to equip and protect him. How much time does he have before it is too late? He is angry, he is scared, he doesn’t have the luxury of indulging in either. He pushes thoughts he can’t deal with now aside, and channels his emotion.

_Time to rise._

Link takes a step forward, still silent.

“I’ll just go through you, too, then, old…”

Link surges forward before that sentence is finished, catching his opponent flat footed. He puts his entire body into his swing, grunting as the blade catches just under the breastplate this time and bites in, hard. He pulls straight back to remove it, and feels a satisfying drag on bone as he does. There’s blood, and he thinks he sees air bubble through it. That would be good, if he could get a lung to collapse.

That would be ideal.

Damien spins back from the strike, hissing and shrinking back before striking wildly. Link dances back, feeling the black blade sing through the air where he had been. He lets his momentum push him to the side and forward again, aggressively slashing and missing this time. He is close enough to hear air being sucked into the chest wound he scored, and he quickly smiles to himself.

Damien takes a step back. Link pushes forward again, teeth bared, losing himself in the flow of motion, one with his sacred blade and who knows how many others who have been in his boots. 

He loses track of how many times he swings and where he lands. He dodges the big black blade, most of the time. He blocks with his shield and dances out of the way, but he takes a blow to his right hip when his feet are a little slow. He hears the whistle from the chest wound he scored earlier and he thinks Damien’s swings grow lower as he starts to struggle to breathe.

Link meets his adversary’s eye and takes his blade with both hands, raising it overhead to drive home a final blow, but as he brings it down, it passes through nothing. There is no resistance. It's as though they are back in the inn in Tabantha and Damien has taken himself out of physical existence.

Link doesn’t waste time to ponder this. He spins and sprints back to the square where Zelda is still on the ground, still bleeding, and he can see that puddle under her looks larger and that’s not good, _oh_ that’s _not good_. He is cold, and his heart hammers away in his chest, he can feel it in his neck, it's beating so hard.

“Zelda?” He hopes he sounds conversational, and not like how he’d just like to scream. “Hey. Zelda?”

Oh, she isn’t moving and he can’t tell if she might still be breathing or not. He tries her name again, and this time even he hears his voice rise at the end of it. 

Her head moves, just a little. He should feel relief, but that’s not quite what it is. Maybe its just a spark of hope and he can turn it into relief, if he’s quick. He drops to a squat beside her, ignoring the protest in his joints, fumbling through his pack, there has to be at least one, she had given him three and he only used one. She had never asked for them back and it had not occurred to him to return them. He digs in, there are two, there have to be, those bottles had not been broken in the river temple, at least he is pretty sure they had not.

His fingers find the slippery, smooth glass, and he wraps his hand around the bottle, pulling it free. He uses his other hand to gently tilt her chin up. Her blue eyes focus on his for a second and then roll, and he tries to not see how there’s mud or blood or maybe both smeared on her cheek.

“Zelda,” _steady stay steady._ “Zelda, listen to me, I need you to drink this for me. Zelda? Zel-“

He stops, as he thinks he has caught a curdled sweetness to the air, and the hair at the nape of his neck stands up. A quick glance around shows him nothing but that will change. He pulls her up against him. She groans, and _oh, yes, that’s a lot of blood, a lot. Is she usually pinker than this?_ He doesn’t look at that tear in her tunic where that sword hit her. If he doesn’t look, he doesn’t have to see how it extends into her belly. Her head tips back against him

“Zelda, listen to me. I just need you to swallow, ok, we don’t have very much time. Please, Zelda.”

He mutters _please Zelda_ over and over, as though it’s a prayer as he uncorks the bottle of red potion and brings it to her lips. The air seems to thicken and she isn’t going to drink voluntarily. He is out of time and if he just pours this down her throat and she drowns at least he tried. The outcome is the same if he does nothing.

“I’m sorry, Zelda.”

He pours the potion into her mouth and hopes it goes where it will be useful. She coughs and sputters and he guesses that’s okay as magic starts to swirl around him. She gasps, and her eyes meet his and _OH_ she is back she’s back. He quickly stands, pulling her up.

“You were hurt,” he says. “We have no more time. He is back.”

“Right,” she nods. “Let’s get this thing open.”

They scramble to their places and find Damien standing, waiting, just waiting for them, right where the portal should open. As though he knows. He leans on his sword again, and if he was giddy before, he is nearly laughing at them. Link wonders what the joke is. He is clearly not in on the punchline.

“You’re looking better, Hylia,” he wheezes, Link notes. He struggles a little for words, or at least for the air for them. “ I suppose your hero swooped in at the last minute? Very noble. You’re wise to keep him around.”

Link holds his ground and turns to Zelda. “Zelda, open it and let’s be done with this.”

“Yes,” Damien can barely contain his glee, his voice just above a whisper. “”Please, let’s open it. Please.”

Something about this is not sitting right. Link takes the sword and shield, wondering where the attack is. Zelda gathers herself. Link feels the portal spin open, right behind Damien. There’s a glint in Damien’s eye that makes Link furrow his brow. And then Damien pulls something out of a pocket. A fist sized lump of glassy, black stone. Obsidian, thinks Link.

And then he realizes he is looking at the stone that completes the Triforce.

_What happens when he pl_

Link does not have time to complete this thought before Damien drops the stone behind him and for a second light flares along the ground, tracing the Triforce. The back of Link’s right hand erupts in pain, and he grinds his teeth. He can see Zelda give her hand shake.

The portal changes. The color shifts, the edges lighten. Instead of spinning, it seems to stop and lock into place. Symbols pop along the edge of the portal, glowing green. Link doesn’t think he recognizes them. Damien laughs

“What did you do?” Asks Link.

Damien’s laugh has guttered to a gasp. As he gasps for air, the wound on his chest sucks air in too. Link thinks it was a fatal blow, it seems that way.

“It’s locked open,” Zelda answers. “He is calling something out.”

“Locked. What does that mean?” 

“It stays open on its own.”

“Then I can do this?” He darts between her and their adversary. “We practiced this, Zelda. Get your bow.”

She doesn’t need another prompt. The delicate looking half moon of a bow is in her hands and she nocks an arrow, drawing the string smoothly. Link is aggressive in guarding her. There will not be another strike on her as long as he stands.

“You continue to protect her, even when you know she has manipulated your emotions the way she has,” His words are ragged. This speech is probably too much for him, thinks Link. “She doesn’t love you, hero. You only matter where you serve her needs. You’re a tool, Chosen of Farore, a toy, and you’ll be tossed aside as soon as you’re not needed.”

The light arrow hits him between the eyes and Link takes the opening, slamming the sword home over handed and pushing the body into the portal. He grunts pulling it back, tha blade smoking with whatever ran through Damien’s heart. Surely, three fatal wounds are enough.

The portal remains unchanged. The green symbols might pulse in time to a rhythm Link can’t hear, but otherwise it is silent and unmoving. He turns to Zelda, who has her face in her hands.

“Did we do it?” she asks.

Link frowns. It seems like this should be finally over, but the back of his mind is restless and on alert, instead of accepting the victory. _Why?_

“Did we do it, Link.” She asks again. He does not have an answer he is sure of. He goes to her, scooping his left arm around the small of her back, grinning as he brings her against him. He wants it to be over, and even if he feels uneasy, it must be over. 

Right?

He leans in to kiss her, and that’s when the earth rolls beneath their feet, pitching them both to the ground, Zelda landing on top of him. He has a moment to see disbelief in her eyes before he is nearly deafened by a roar of pure fury.

“Oh, it’s not over.” Her voice is small and cold.

“ _Oh._ ” It’s the tiniest sound he’s ever heard from her. “It’s Demise.”

He looks at the portal, locked open and too late to close. He is reminded of images he has seen only in stained glass in the Temple of Time, creatures he always thought were just stories and how no one facing one with just a sword would be anything but lunch. 

He hopes he was wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its kind of exciting and a little bittersweet to have this winding down. The next chapter is still like half written and coming slowly, but its coming...and everything after that is done. Thanks for coming along for the ride if you've been following as I go. Its been quite a year.
> 
> Thanks also for kudos/comments and the like. I appreciate any feedback, in any form :)


	35. Final Form

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t realize that your final thing could be more than one fight the first time I rolled into the sanctum, either.

He isn’t sure what is trying to come out of the portal, it's hard to look at. Much like that horse Damien had shown up with. It's black, and red, and it flows, like water, but it's doing it through the air. He scrambles to his feet, pulling Zelda up roughly and keeping his hand on her arm. The atmosphere is heavy with potential. He had thought magic was bad. This is worse. So much worse.

“Zelda,” he keeps his eyes on what is pouring out into their world. “What is it? You know, right?”

“It's Demise himself. Maybe Damien was to throw us off.”

He tightens his grip on her bicep for a second and lets her go. He wonders if they can split his last red potion effectively when they need it. _ I was so ready for this to be over. _

“Its a demon, Link. He isn’t from our world, so we cannot permanently disable him here.”

“...what.”  _ What else is she going to reveal? _

“We can only send him back and lock him away again.”

_ Until the next pair of fools gets caught up in this game. Kicking the can down the road another what, a hundred, a thousand, ten thousand years away? _ He closes his eyes and allows a small sigh. He grits his teeth and draws the sword, the blade glowing and nearly vibrating in his grip. Whatever magic is wrapped in it is more awake than he has felt before.

**_Master._ **

_ I know. _

A light arrow flies overhead, quickly followed by another. They find their target, somehow, as Link thought he was just seeing smoke. Something coalesces  _ oh _ and they have its full undivided attention. He gets to a ready stance, lowering his eyes, trying to look determined and fierce, but he feels so small. 

The smoke forms in front of him, into something roughly man shaped, with fire red hair and gold eyes. He holds a black sword and Link isn’t sure if it’s the same blade Damian had or not, but in the hands of Demise, it’s awake and present like Link’s own blade.

“I am the Hero of Hyrule,” whispers Link. “I’m ready for you.”

_ Are you, really? _

“Really.” He flips the sword, anticipating. He means it.

The black blade comes down and he gets the big blue shield up in time to block. The strike is faster and harder than before. He thinks the black sword laughs at him, but that’s not possible, right?

A light arrow flies overhead. He is not alone in this. The projectile lands, and for a moment, the figure before him seems to liquify. He darts in, putting his entire body into the slash, scoring a hit before the demon dissolves and reforms to his right. He hears a hiss from Zelda and pushes himself into a spin so that the shield catches the blade again. His swing misses, or passes through, somehow, without causing harm.

He hears the laugh in his ears and his heart.  _ Are you, really, hero? _

The slash comes at him so fast, he doesn’t see it. He just knows he reacts to...what, exactly, he’s not sure, but he raises his own blade and the two meet, metal on metal. He is pushed back a step by the blow, and takes another to get out from under this sword. He notes that the crossguard on his opponent’s blade is flipped, but it's black, there might be red highlighting it, and he swears again he hears a giggle.

Link feels like he has been fighting all night. The sky is still dark, but now there is a flicker on the edge, and a low roll of thunder. He keeps moving, keeping his eyes focused on the shifting shape of Demise. He is ready. He did mean it. He is going to end this one way, or another, hopefully before the rain starts.

_ I only need to end you once, hero, and its over for good. _

Link does not break his concentration, and he does not voice an answer. His actions are enough. 

_ At least you keep it interesting. _

Something tells him to drop the shield and put both hands on the hilt of the sword, holding it overhead, to drive it home in a final blow. He does it, the big blue shield clattering to the ground as he sweeps his left hand to join the right, wrapped around the blue and green hilt over his head. He takes three quick steps and throws himself into the overhand swing, aiming at that broad chest. Right before he lands his swing, his target is gone, and he buries the end of his blade into the flagstone. It doesn’t want to come out when he tugs on it.

_ Oh. Come on not now _

He can hear the laugh behind him as he adjusts his grip on the hilt and gives another tug up.  _ Come on come on come on. _ He resists the urge to look over his shoulder, and focuses on hauling the blade out of the stone, what is it stuck on?

And then Zelda is in front of him, right hand overhead, staring hard over his shoulder and he is aware of a halo of gold light around them. She flicks her eyes to him. “Be quick, I can only hold this a minute or two.”

He nods, and plants his right foot forward, hauling up on the blade and now it comes free, staggering him back a step. He turns in time to meet the black blade with his own again, grunting as the impact travels up his arm. Zelda has swapped back to her bow, and Link counts another volley of three arrows that all hit their target in a tight group on what he presumes is the right chest, at least until Demise liquifies again, and is on the move.

“Zelda,” he keeps his voice low. “Are we doing  _ anything _ here at all?”

“He keeps losing form and moving off, I’d say so.”

Lightning flashes, drawing their attention. Thunder rolls, and nearly completely covers the sound of Demise reforming behind them. Link catches the sound at the edges of his hearing and takes Zelda’s arm, pulling them both out of the big black sword’s path. He takes advantage of the opening, and dives in to drive his sacred blade deep into the belly of the being before him. It doesn’t quite feel like what he expected, but he feels a connection with soft tissues and when he lets his swing move ahead, he thinks he can feel things tear. He barks a small laugh of triumph.

Demise turns his face to Link and smiles. It isn’t pleasant. Link starts to back up, wishing that maybe he had not just dropped that shield. Lightning briefly lights the clouds again, and Demise hoists his sword over head, in one hand. Link furrows his brow.  _ What’s he doing? _

Lightning strikes the sword, lighting the blade. Link marvels for a second, wondering why that was not immediately fatal, before he is seized by an urge to move. “ZELDA. RUN.”

He doesn’t see where she goes, but he does see that black blade come down and discharge a ball of electricity toward him. He dodges, and hears a laugh as Demise raises the blade again. How is he supposed to fight this? He sees the lightning strike again and gets ready to dart out of the way. He can probably do this for a while, but not forever. He sees a volley of light arrows, but their nemesis dissolves and moves before they land. And appears to aim the next volley of electricity at Zelda.

He tries to dash in and take a swing or two again, but he isn’t quite fast enough and he pulls up short as Demise calmly turns to face him.

**_Master._ **

He does not drop his eyes as that black blade rises with agonizing slowness and he can feel electricity build. “What is it?” He whispers.

**_We can counter that._ **

Lightning strikes the sword, the blade swings down, and Link is on the move to avoid the electricity.

“ _ How?” _ It’s been a long night. He may have Farore’s blessings, but they do not appear bottomless. He is just a man at the end of things.

At least two voices from the past speak to him, offering suggestions as he stays out of the way of another ball of electricity. Zelda tries to assist, buying him time away from being a target. He thinks he understands the options. He hopes he does.

When the next ball of electricity comes at him, he doesn’t step out of the way. Instead, he swings his right arm back and swings his blade, connecting with it, hoping to send it back. When he connects, his body is seized with current, throwing his head back, teeth clicking together and twisting his spine into an arc. He thinks maybe he can smell his hair burning for a second. His world is just pain for a long white moment and then it's gone, leaving him on the ground, confused and unsure of where his feet are. He knows he is being much too slow to get up, but there’s not anything he can do about it. He is aware, somewhere, that that sword is rising back into the air and there is laughter in his ears.

“No.” Its Zelda, standing in front of him, drawing her bow and letting a shot fly before dispelling the bow and holding a hand out to shield him. He gets himself to a squat, and slowly pushes up. Zelda grabs his arm as electricity breaks over her shield, and then she grabs his arm and drags him off.

“I know what to do now,” he pants after her.

She raises an eyebrow at him.

“Its different than that, its not that.” he clarifies.

“I should hope so.”

Thunder rolls overhead. Link stops. He still feels jangled and a little shaky, but it's  _ time. _

“I got it, Zelda.”

She nods and steps back. Lightning flashes. Link raises the sword overhead in his right hand and hopes that this is going to work without killing him.He takes a breath and holds it for a minute before letting it flutter out. He fixes his gaze on Demise, who is also raising his blade.

When the strike happens, it hits the master sword. Link can feel a jolt but there is no shock. The blade sparkles with electricity and Link swings the blade down, flinging his own ball of electricity at Demise. The demon doesn’t dodge, and when it lands, there’s a scream, and the demon is frozen as the shock rolls through him. Link darts in, sword at the ready, and manages a few wild swings that feel like they find substance before he needs to dance out of the way of the big black blade when it comes his way.

Panting, Link backs up and then stands his ground, raising his sacred blade again. Maybe once more will do it. The strike finds him and he swings again, landing another round of electricity on Demise, and dashing in as soon as its off.

The being before him is mortally wounded, or whatever passes for that in a demon out of its home plane. Dark light pours from the wounds. Link snarls and lifts the sword overhead, muscle in his back and arms screaming, and surges forward to drive the sword home.

_ This isn’t the end, hero. _ The voice is in his head, that same silky smoke he first heard in the desert.  _ There is no end. You are only a temporary stop. _

“It’s the end for you and me,” he whispers. “ZELDA, NOW.  _ NOW!” _

He isn’t sure where she is behind him, but he can smell the magic before it crackles overhead. Three quick arrows fly, landing in a tight formation and give an extra push, allowing Link to sink the sword deep in what he guesses is the demon’s chest. He pushes Demise backward into the portal that is thrumming, the green runes around the edges pulsing with increasing intensity.. As the demon falls back, Link steps forward, spotting one of the stones on the ground, and kicks it out of alignment. The portal collapses inward and all that’s left is whatever is smoking on his blade.

_ It’s never over, Hero. _

He lets the sword clatter to the flagstone and doubles over. He thinks he might puke. It has to be over for now.  _ It has to be _ . Someone else, in another future can take it up again, but he has to be done now. 

Gold light floods his vision, and there’s a high pitched tone in the air. The back of his right hand flares, not exactly painful, but odd enough he rubs at it. He jerks his head up and groans. Surely he is hallucinating the triforce before him, golden triangles hanging in the air. Surely a hallucination..  _ Now what?  _ “I want to be ok. I just want things to be ok.” He isn’t sure who he might be pleading with. “I just want to be ok.”

_ As you wish, Chosen One. _

He squints, and crinkles his upper lip. What did that mean, _ exactly? _ But the gold glow is gone, leaving the early light of dawn behind and he is back to wondering if he will puke, when was the last time he ate, anyway?

And then he hears her sob behind him. He turns and she is on her hands and knees, her face red, eyes screwed shut.  _ Oh. _ He turns and goes to her, getting on the ground to gather her up. She climbs onto him and grabs his tunic, burying her face in his chest, shaking.

“It’s ok, Zelda, it’s ok. We did it, it’s over, you won, I love you, it’s ok, I love you.”

Words pour out of him into her ear. He still means them, he thinks, though he is conflicted and confused about her. But here they are, anyway, in a rush as she clings to him in tears and he isn’t even sure she is listening.

He stops speaking and embraces her, rocking her oh so slightly and letting her cry it out until her sobs slow and her breath hitches against him. He is so tired. He lets his eyelids drowse closed a few times and catches himself about to slip into sleep until he realizes that she has stopped weeping and is sleeping against him. He permits himself to tuck her hair behind her ear so he can gently kiss it and whisper to her one more time that he loves her before letting himself drop off just for a minute, maybe a few.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this didn’t want to come easily.
> 
> On the other hand...it’s all done except for the posting.
> 
> Thanks everyone for coming along for the ride. I hope you will like the rest. <3


	36. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to reflect a little on things you’ve done and decide what’s next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know how you spend so much time working to some big flipping deal and it finally happens and you’re just like...meh. And you have no idea what to do next?
> 
> Yeah.

It’s the early morning sun on his face that gently wakes him. He’d fallen asleep sitting up, leaning against the side of the Two Black Mares. He can feel every day he’s ever lived in his joints and knows getting off the ground is going to take some doing, so he just takes in the light and his surroundings. There’s a weight on his chest, and it’s her head. She is curled up against his left side, arm stretched across his chest. He has one panicky moment where he remembers the strike that opened her belly into the dirt, but she is just asleep. Taking care not to wake her, he places a kiss on the top of her head and rests his face in her hair, breathing her in, relieved she is safe. He closes his eyes, content to let the morning pass by and just be.

He must have dozed off again, because he thinks he hears a whispered “Wake up, Link,” and when he opens his eyes, he is looking right into hers, and he smiles.

“Hey,” Oh it’s so good to wake up with her. So good. He reaches his hand to her face, runs his fingers along the edge of her ear and rests his hand on her cheek. 

He once thought he’d like to wake up to this every day, but he feels a tiny worm of doubt. How much of her is Zelda and how much is Hylia and where does he stand with either? He feels what he feels, and his heart is willing to ignore things that might hurt badly down the road. His mind is less so.

He pulls her in anyway and holds her close, feeling a twinge in his back that makes him grimace. She kisses his ear lobe, sending a shiver through him and whispers “We probably should get up. We are both a little too old for laying out on the ground.”

“You’re probably right.”

“I’m sure we can find someplace better than this. Let’s get up, Hero Of Hyrule.”

The Hero of Hyrule. He can wear that, even with his doubts. It fits now. 

He takes her left hand off his chest with his right, interlacing his fingers with hers. ”Lead the way.”

He ends up using the wall to steady himself as he slowly rises before taking her by the hand to help hoist her up. They both stand in the late morning sun, tentatively stretching, taking care with old joints before moving off, hand in hand. His limp is bad this morning, but maybe he will work out of it later in the day. Her steps are stiff and slow. They make their way back inside in silence, pausing in the common area before heading up the steps to her suite.

Inside her makeshift office, she takes off her boots and loosens her hair. He follows her lead, removing his boots and the hat, taking off the green tunic and the chainmail. And then he sits on a chair. 

“I am so tired, Zelda.”

She takes another chair and sits opposite him. “Me too, Link.”

They sit quietly for a minute. He can feel the weight of the weariness between them, as though its a physical thing. His neck and shoulders are heavy with it. He finally speaks up. “If it is ok, Zelda, I am going to go lay down. I need my bed-”

“Stay with me,” she interrupts. “I don’t want to be alone after that.” She drops her hands to her face and takes in a deep breath, and then she is back. “I don’t want to be alone.”

He accepts her invitation, and they are quickly spooned together on her bed, his arm around her waist, face tucked behind her head. There’s a new scar across her belly, he can feel the raised edges through the torn, stained tunic she still wears. She stops his fingers from exploring it more. He presses one kiss to a spot behind her ear, and she shivers.

“How did you do the things you did, Link?” She whispers.

“You asked me to.”

She is silent, and he thinks she has gone to sleep. “I’m sorry, Link.” She hitches with a tiny sob.

“Are you thinking about what happened?”

She nods.

“Impa once told me that when you think about a bad thing happening, your mind doesn’t know that the thing isn’t happening again. You should remember, we finished the fight. _You_ finished the fight. You won.”

She nods again, and chokes back more tears. He pulls her in closer. “It’s over, Zelda. You’re safe. We’re safe.

“I love you.” he whispers.

She finds his hand at her waist and she squeezes it.

_Why won’t she say it?_

He murmurs to her until he drifts off. They sleep deeply. He feels warm, and thinks he is safe, finally. Things are almost perfect. Almost. 

The incarnation of the goddess Hylia and the spirit of her chosen hero, both in flawed mortal forms, rest.

He doesn’t dream at all. 

Later, it’s dark and quiet, and he is maybe half awake when he feels a hand skate from the hollow of his throat, over his collarbone to his shoulder. He startles awake with a gasp, glass breaking in his head. When was the last time he heard that? He sits up, grabbing the hand and pulls.

“Zelda?”

It’s her hand and he has pulled her on top of him. He drops her wrist and slides his hand on her cheek, running his thumb on her lower lip. She looks surprised. ”This wasn’t how I meant to wake you, sleepyhead.”

“...how did you mean to wake me?”

She looks into his eyes. He can feel the thump of her heart against his chest. She leans into him and her mouth is over his. They kiss, slow and deep.He huffs a contented sigh, slipping his hand into her hair drawing her closer and angling his head to meet her better. She tugs on the hem of his undershirt, and her hand is on his abdomen. He feels as though butterflies, or maybe fairies, flitter under her touch. _Small pleasures_. She slowly runs a finger along the scar he got in the desert before sliding her hand up to rest lightly over his hip. She grabs his hip, pulling him closer and he rolls her to her side.

She meets his eyes. She is different, somehow, her irises dark and hungry. Who is he with right now, he wonders and what does she want from him?

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Just make me feel. I want to be alive.” It is a command, her voice is fierce.

He is not sure why he hesitates. He has certainly plunged forward before, for worse reasons, though maybe his heart wasn’t the one getting bruised by it. The stakes seem higher, somehow, and he isn’t sure where he stands anymore. He is afraid to tell her no, but lying with her tonight seems fraught as well.

Her fingers curl against the flesh of his hip and she pulls him into her until they touch, and then she pulls him in a little more. She has not broken eye contact as she does this. His body stirs, despite his thoughts, and offers the idea that an orgasm would not be the worst, tonight.

He looks into her eyes, a hand on the side of her face, caressing her cheek and then she has pulled him into her again. He rolls her onto her back, pinning her with his hips, one hand taking a fistful of hair at the back of her neck, so he can run his tongue and teeth down the length of her throat, cupping her right breast in his left hand. If she wants to feel, he can do that, though it’s only later when he wonders exactly what she meant.

***************

Later. He is more than half asleep, on his right side, only just aware of things around him. The bedding is warm, and he has no desire to stir from it. There is a woman ( _Zelda? Zelda._ ) curled around his back, spooning him, arm draped across his chest, her face in his hair. He can feel her breathing at his ear, and he has no desire to stir from that, either. They are both bare, and he likes the skin on skin as well. He shifts a tiny bit, feeling a little more awake, but still not ready to get up. He isn’t sure he will be ready today. His body aches, muscles sore. He hurts in places he didn’t know he had. He starts to slowly wander through the events of the last day. Has it only been a day?

And then he pushes everything away. He isn’t ready to think about it. It's much too much. 

Zelda stirs behind him, and gives him a squeeze with the arm stretched over his chest. She gently kisses his ear, and slowly slides her hand down his torso. When she dips below the scar low on his abdomen, he takes her wrist and pulls her hand back to his sternum.

“Hey, no. Not now,” he mutters. “I don’t feel like it right now.”

She shifts against him, pulling herself up a little. He sighs. His day is probably starting already. “Is everything okay?” she asks.

“No,” he chuckles, and turns to face her. “No, Zelda, I’m not okay. The past few days. Its been a LOT. A lot.”

“Its over,” she offers.

“Is it really?” he tucks her hair behind her ear. “I feel like I’ve spent a year, maybe more, getting here and now. I don’t know how I feel. I think I want to go home.”

“We can start back to the castle today.”

“No.” He swallows. “Hateno.”

“Hateno?” Now there is a stiffness to her. “I see. Why?”

He rolls on his back and looks at the ceiling. “I don’t know. I feel like I need to go see Kagun. Maybe see if my dad will have me back.”

“Will have you back.” Zelda sits up. She starts to say something and stops, taking time to carefully choose her words. “I don’t think your father deserves you.”

“He is still my father, Zelda. Its complicated.”

“I know. I know. But. You have a home in the castle, Link. That can be your home.”

“Its complicated.”

“You can talk to me,” she whispers.

“I don’t know if I can,” he whispers back. “I'm sorry.” She scares him, a little, but he can’t tell her that.

She doesn’t answer him, but she does slide back down next to him and rests her head on his chest, keeping her hand under her chin. He wraps his arm around her shoulders and kisses the top of her head. “I’m sorry.” he whispers again.

He lets his mind drift, still not ready to get up. After a while, she speaks up. “Do what you need to do, Link. You always have a home in the castle. I’ll tell you about your history when you come back. If you choose to come back.

“I hope you do, though.”

He thinks her voice may have cracked at the end. He definitely feels wetness on his skin where she rests her head, but neither of them say anything.

They ride out a few days later, after a cadre of the royal guard arrives to escort her back, though he rides with her until the road parts to the south east to Hateno. Their goodbye on the road is brief. There had been a more formal farewell behind the door of her bed chamber that morning, a tangle of arms and legs and tears and whispered words. He told her he would see her again. He was not sure if that was true.

He clucked to Epona and pushed his heels to her, cantering toward the place he grew up, trying to understand why he didn’t feel as accomplished as he thought he should.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So fun news, I cohost a podcast and our engineer offered to make a pod fic of this. No idea when it might actually happen, but that’s pretty exciting.
> 
> The bones of this chapter were thrown down so long ago. It might have been April when I did the first version of it, that I then tweaked as I went. At the time, I was really issuing a beat down on Link and I wanted to eventually give him a soft landing, so I started one. It was softer than this, but it also went through a period where it was much harder. I’m pretty happy with where it ended up here, though.
> 
> Two more chapters left! Thank you for the kudos and comments and stuff I see reblogged on Tumblr. You make my day every single time.
> 
> Hey, also, I spun the smut off into its thing, [After the Boss Battle](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27463576)


	37. Side Quest: Homecoming, Twice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe you can’t go home again...or maybe home where you decide it is

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I’m posting a bit early, but I’m in the US and tomorrow is gonna be A Day.

Link rubs his temples and tells himself, he’s made a mistake and he just needs to push through. Again. He just needs to get through this dinner. That’s all. He has been through worse.

_ Have you, though, really? Really? _

He had arrived just after sundown, and when he tapped on his brother’s door, Taphea had answered and swept him up in an excited embrace, calling for his brother and nephew. He was shocked to see Kobin was now tall enough to look him in the eye. He ground tied Epona behind the house. As much as he would have liked a stall for her, he did not want to risk getting caught in his father’s barn.

He ended up on the porch with Kagun, late into the night, telling stories and enjoying having an audience. He smoothed over a lot of the details. Maybe this is how things that happen become legends, he thinks. The details get lost over time, even when they are important to the people they happen to.

Link has finished telling a version of what happened in the River Temple, when he asks “So, has he asked after me since last time.”

Kagun shifts, uncomfortable. “Not in so many words.”

Link nods, and turns his head away, so Kagun won’t see the sadness he has felt well up. “I see,” he whispers. “I hoped things changed, maybe. You know.”

“Do you want to see him? I can see if they can come over for dinner or something.’

“I think I do. I’ve changed a lot since I was here last.”

And now he was just trying to get through this dinner. Link had not tried to tell any stories. His father had run the table since arriving, leading with something like  _ oh, how nice of the legendary hero to grace us with his presence. _ Link couldn’t recall exactly what he said, and if he had thought that a year or more of crawling in dungeons and fighting monsters had somehow made him less fearful when his father towered over him and shouted, he was wrong.

Mostly. 

Link ate in silence, trying to let the monologue from his father slide over his head. His mother and Taphea stared at each other and tried to ignore it as well. Kobin squirmed in his chair and asked to be excused, darting off before he got an answer. Link felt a twinge of envy. Kagun, goddesses bless him ( _ oh maybe not _ ) was doing what he could to try and run interference. But there was one more comment about how Link had larked off into the military while everyone else stayed home, and that was when he had enough.

_ Time to rise. _ It almost seems as though it was whispered in his ear.  _ Yes _ . Time. 

Link met his father's eyes across the table. “I will  _ literally _ never be enough for you,” he huffs out a sound that might be a laugh. “The reason we can sit at this table and have dinner right now is because of things I did, and that’s not enough. I don’t deserve this. She was right, I don’t deserve this. And you don’t deserve me.”

He pushes his chair back, shoulders the sword and gets up, moving to the door. “I’m sorry, Taph, dinner was excellent as always. I will come back when the rest of your guests leave.”

“LINK. Get back here and sit down.” The rumble stops him for just a second. It’s an old monster, and one he never quite had the courage to face head on before.

He isn’t who he was the last time he was here, though.

His hand is on the door knob, and he turns it, pushing the front door open. “No. You don’t deserve me.”

He steps out into the evening and stalks off to what serves as Hateno’s square. It’s just a couple benches and a notice board, really, and he settles onto a bench near a lantern and stares off. Its not so far from the house that he can’t still hear the occasional raised voice. Maybe it was a mistake to try and come back.

He isn’t sure how long he has been there when Taphea joins him. “I never liked hearing him yell, either. Kagun and your mother are trying to settle him down.”

Link just shakes his head. “I‘m sorry, Taph. I like myself too much now to do this anymore. I don’t deserve it.”

“You don’t.”

They sit in silence and watch moths flit about the lanterns.

“I think I’m getting a house in Lurelin.” He says. He always wanted to. Why not?

“You had a lady friend in Lurelin, is she the one you mentioned?”

“What?” There had been a time that had been so important, and now it seemed a lifetime ago.

“You said she was right?”

“Oh. No. That is someone else.” He sighs. “It’s. Ah. It’s complicated.”

“What’s her name?”

“Zelda,” he wonders if there’s a word for what he feels when he says that name, desire but with warning flags.

“Like. Like  _ Queen _ Zelda?”

He nods. “Like Queen Zelda. It’s complicated.”

Taphea studies him. “ _ Is _ it Queen Zelda?”

He doesn’t answer that question, but he doesn’t break Taphea’s gaze, either. Taphea leans in to kiss his cheek. “You deserve to be happy. I hope whatever you have with her does that.”

Link didn’t answer her right away. “It’s complicated, Taph. How do you know Kagun loves you?”

“Ah. What?”

“It’s just. It’s.” He covers his mouth with a hand and furrows his brow, trying to put words together. “I have told her how I feel, she won’t say it back. But. She does things for me. But.”

“I would watch what she does, Link.”

“But why won’t she tell me?”

“You’d have to ask her. If this _ were _ the royal Zelda, they say she was devastated when she was widowed. I can only imagine if Kagun died.” She stops, biting her tongue. “I am not sure I would be able to say things I’d said to him to another, even if I felt it. I would need someone to be very patient.” She stops again. “Maybe your Zelda has some sadness she is not over. Maybe she needs your patience.”

“Maybe you’re right, Taph.”

They are quiet for a long moment before Link says softly, “Thank you, Taph.”

“You’re welcome. Do you think your father is done yelling tonight?”

“I’m sure he’s not. I’m staying put for a while.”

*************

Before they parted ways, he tried to give Zelda the big blue shield and the green tunic and ( _ stupid _ ) hat of the hero, but she wouldn’t take them, saying he wasn’t done until the sword went back. Hold on to them, she said. You’ll know when it’s time.

He bought a house on the beach in Lurelin, with a little private cove, and enough space to park Epona. He hung the big blue shield in his common room, over the mantle. He liked to watch Epona graze while taking his coffee in the morning. Some days, he would just get on bareback and gallop down the beach, one with sky and sand and sea. Some days they would go swim, but the mare didn’t care for that much, and would slip out from under him and go back to shore.

He still took to forms a few times a week. He didn’t feel ready to put the sword back. Not yet.

Was he happy, he wondered. Was it what he wanted? He had no idea. He thought he might feel a little more complete once he fulfilled whatever it was fate and destiny had thrown at him, but he was just at loose ends, with no goal in mind. He had felt more fulfilled before the sword. Maybe he should consider teaching again. Maybe not at the castle.

He sits on his porch nursing a stout one night, watching the waves roll and listening to the sounds of night fishing birds, and he realizes that retiring to Lurelin was not what he had made it up to be. It was warm and lovely, and he had  _ almost _ everything he needed. Almost.

Later that week there was a knock at his door.

“ _ Impa? _ ” He has her swept up in an embrace before he realizes he’s done it. “Oh, it’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you,” she replies. “You’ve been missed.”

“What brings you here? How did you know?”

She smiles. “You’re important, and I keep tabs on you. I’m here to deliver this and escort you back home.” She pulls a thick envelope out, one sealed in gold wax with an elaborate Z, and hands it to him. He takes it and turns it over in his hands, unsure of what to feel. He had almost gotten used to the idea that she was someone he used to know. Or that’s what he was telling himself.

“Hey,” Impa’s voice is soft, and her fingers brush his hand. “Everything okay?”

“I’m really not sure,” he replies, not taking his eyes off the seal.”I’ll make some coffee, we should probably talk.”

***************

The thick envelope turned out to be a wedding invitation, the most complex one he had ever seen. Zelda’s oldest was engaged. There is a note asking him to attend as a person of note in the kingdom. There is another, in a more feminine script, asking him to attend as the personal guest of the queen. He gets a faint whiff of lilac from the paper.

“I don’t know what to make of this, Impa, am I invited as an important guest of the kingdom or as her personal escort? Is it both?”

“It’s both. Royal weddings are something else. They are week long affairs.”

He nods, still looking over the pages of vellum. “I remember hers, I was in Castletown. Everything was a party in the days leading up. I need to think about this. I don’t know.” He leans back on his chair on the porch, looking out over the waves. “I don’t know, Impa.”

“What’s there to know?”

“I told you. I don’t know how to square this, with everything.”

“I’ve heard this from both sides,” says Impa. “I think you should both talk to each other. She misses you. I think you miss her, you’ve just been trying to be too busy to notice.”

He shuffles through the invitation. When Kagun got married, they just sent letters to friends and did it once everyone arrived.

“You still have your rooms,” offers Impa. “I miss sparring with you. No one tells me horse stories. You don’t have to stay if you decide you don’t want to. But please come home.”

“I need to think.”

**************************

He thinks for a few days and Impa waits for him. They spar on the beach after breakfast. Link takes her swimming with the horses, and then for a good gallop along the tide line. At night they share stories and beer on his porch. It feels like a long time since he has laughed like this. The night she tells him she has to return to the castle, he realizes he doesn’t want to stay in his house on the bay alone.

The next morning, he took down that big blue shield, packed what he could, and tacked up the bay silver mare, riding back to central Hyrule and the castle with Impa. A week later, he is unpacking his things in his apartment in the castle. He tried to arrive quietly, but the castle is alive with eyes and ears and few secrets can be kept safely for long. There’s already a letter for him on the side table. It smells faintly of lilacs.

He opens it. It’s another invitation. To dinner the following night.

He sits down on his bed and reads it over again. He has spent the past several weeks trying to distance himself from his time with her, and now that he is back it feels like those weeks didn’t happen. He does want to see her. Alone. He reminds himself he doesn’t have to stay if he doesn’t want to. He thinks she might scare him a little, still.

_ You can’t be brave, if you’re not scared. Even a little. _   


He decides to be brave.

He takes his time getting ready the next day, treating himself to a bath with soap that smells like sandalwood. He leaves his hair loose, instead of gathering it in its usual ponytail. He adds a pair of blue enameled hoops to his ears and notes how grey his temples have gotten. He wears a new blue tunic that he knows will accentuate his eyes. He hasn’t seen her in so long, he wants to be the best he can for her. He needs to be.

He wonders if things will be different. 

Dinner is on her private patio at sunset. It overlooks Hyrule Field, greenery and forest spreading as far as he can see as day shifts to evening. Eventually darkness swallows everything except what the candles on the table keep at bay.

The meal is exquisite. Roast lamb with small potatoes and green peas, had he told her this was his favorite at some point, or was it a happy accident? The wine is from the sole vineyard in Hateno. She is beautiful in the candlelight, her golden hair a better crown then the diadem she wears, her blue eyes sparkling. The conversation is small talk and awkward over the main course and just as he wonders if he was wrong to take so much time presenting himself, she places her hand on the table and says softly, “I will tell you about the First Hero, if you want.”

He slides his hand to hers and interlaces his fingers with hers. “Maybe not tonight.”

Conversation stops. Their eyes meet, and he sees the fire in hers. He didn’t make a mistake.

Hours after dinner, they have retired to the couch in her parlour with another bottle of the wine from Hateno. There’s a fire in the hearth, and they silently watch it crackle and pop. His right arm is across her shoulder and she is curled up against him. It’s warm in ways that have nothing to do with the fire and this is what Lurelin was missing.

“Zelda, I love you. Still.”

She shifts and suddenly she is in his lap, hands on his face, pulling him closer for a kiss. He meets her open mouthed, slipping his hand behind her head, huffing a sigh of contentment. The world shrinks to the feel of her mouth on his, her weight in his lap, and oh the smell of lilac. There is nothing else, there has been anything else, ever. At some point she breaks away to whisper “I love you, Link, still.” In his ear and it’s the most beautiful thing he has ever heard. They end up drifting to sleep on that parlour couch, entangled with each other. They are startled awake in the morning by an alarmed handmaid who found her charge’s bed empty.

The lead up to the wedding is a whirlwind. The green Hero’s clothes are taken for cleaning. He polishes his own boots. Zelda is busy with preparations, though she steals moments for him when she can, giving his hand or arm a squeeze. There are so many people and formal dinners. Some nights he feels like he is simply there to be marveled at like a trophy and he’d probably just bolt if Impa wasn’t also part of these functions. He retires to his apartments at night exhausted and overstimulated and alone. He escapes when he can during the day, sparring with Impa or trying to teach her the finer points of horsemanship.

The wedding itself is nearly overwhelming. He had no idea what his role as Hero of Hyrule meant in court. It is nearly too much. People want to shake his hand, and get him drinks. One or two of the bolder women of the court ask to dance, but he is a guest of the queen, too, and it seems rude to accept an alternate partner. He doesn’t know courtly dances, anyway. He only knew contra dancing in Hateno, and that’s not what goes on at a courtly affair. He ends up spending the night at her side, drinking champagne until she leans close to him and asks him to take her home. She takes his earlobe in her lips for a fraction of a second-there and gone-but he felt it.

Zelda is slightly tipsy, but so is he as he escorts her to her room. He offers his arm and she takes it with enthusiasm, leaning into him.

“It was a wonderful ceremony,” she gushes. “They are a beautiful couple.”

“They are,” he agrees.

“You did not ask me to dance.”

“I don’t know the waltz.”

They are at the door to her chambers. She turns to face him and takes his hands. “I can teach you.”

“Now?” He tilts his head and looks into her eyes. He wonders if she will taste like wedding cake.

“ _ Now, _ ” she leans into him, tilting her chin up. He opens the door and they step inside.

It might start as a waltz, but the box step grows sloppy and they close the distance between them until they are pressed together and simply swaying to some imagined beat. He moves his hand off her shoulder to the back of her head and brings her in to hungrily kiss her.

She does taste like wedding cake.

He spends the rest of the night making her call his name.

He stops going to his apartments at all at night after that. He isn’t sure what they are doing, and she doesn’t push to define it. No one seems to say anything about it. At nights they just spoon, or look at the stars on her balcony or read to each other. Sometimes they rattle her four poster. 

One night, while he has her tucked under his chin, he asks her to tell him about the First. She rolls to face him, placing a hand on his cheek to tell the story, about how the goddess Hylia watched over Hyrule and took a fancy to a young man. It wasn’t clear to Link if this man was aware of his admirer or not, even when she decided to test his mettle in a way that ended up with him being falsely imprisoned until she needed his help. Zelda told him how the First Hero agreed to help, but because he loved Hyrule and it’s people and when Hylia raised up Skyloft for her people to escape to, he held ground and died doing so.

It was Demise, she whispered, who locked their souls to this cycle.

“I don’t know how to feel about that story,” he whispers, long after she is done telling it.

“I’m not Hylia,” she whispers back. “I’m Zelda. The goddess might act through me, but I am still mortal and I can love. And I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First up, I broke out the scene after they go back to her room [After the Wedding](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28777044)
> 
> The final chapter is called Post Credits. So here are the credits
> 
> When I started on the back half of chapter 6, I realized I was sort of writing my own Zelda game and thought it would be fun to incorporate game tropes as I went. That didn’t last too long, but it did get the heart containers, a couple accidental flurry rushes and resulted in the game over he gets in chapter 9. By the way, that boss is a very unhappy and OOC Lapras. He was probably pissed about being in the wrong game. I ended up writing some ficlets about pots and cuccos and stuff because the ideas still amused me. There might be more. 
> 
> Similarities to the Forest Temple and the Great Deku Tree of Ocarina of Time are coincidental. I started playing OOT for the first time in about May and I ran through the Deku Tree and went huh. I did watch a Let’s Play of the Arbiter’s Ground in Twilight Princess because I haven’t been able to get past the falling in the lava portion of the game. I love games, but I am objectively not good at them. Incidentally, I dislike almost every version of Eldin I’ve dragged my sorry ass through so that’s why no volcanoes here.
> 
> Impa is based on my best friend. Zelda is definitely flavored like my spouse. Those are the two people in my world who keep me going. I have also distanced myself from people I share DNA with to the point they are far away, and consider it self care. You can pick better family on your own. The horse I had as a young person was a cheerful bay gelding, but he wasn’t named Sam. My horse would not have hung out for a moblin, he was afraid of cows. But he was bold galloping and jumping. So long as we didn’t end up in a cow field.
> 
> I had someone on Tumblr beta my first two chapters, back when there were only six, and they were such a huge help in making them better. I tried to keep their general advice in mind as I went forward. They went silent on me right around the holidays as 2019 became 2020 and I hope they are ok. I also want to thank Blue on Tumblr who took over and was an amazing cheerleader. There was a time I think only they were reading, but their feedback pushed me and gave me a lot of confidence in continuing to drive forward. Finally, I’m happy to have found the community of Zelda writers on various discords I haunt. It’s been so nice to have friendly folks to talk to during this process. You guys are also such amazing writers I’m thrilled to hang out with you.
> 
> I do have a couple things I’m working on, though nothing this ambitious (yet). I think I might do a rewrite on this eventually as if I’d had any idea where the back third went, I would have set up the front third differently, but that’s the risk of publishing as you write, I guess. 
> 
> If you told me a year ago, when I was kicking the idea around that became the first chapter, this is where I’d be, I would not have believed you. It’s been a ride. Thanks for coming along.


	38. Post Credits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a minor update but on 1/15/21 I got fanart of this fic and I’m so tickled. Please enjoy.
> 
> [Mature Link by Ellensyu](https://ellensyu.tumblr.com/post/640419705390252032/i-remember-telling-myself-i-need-to-draw-older%E2%80%9D%20rel=)

It’s another sunny day on the Great plateau, and he can see a thunderstorm roll across Hyrule Field from the hilltop where the Temple of Time sits. He has come one last time to put his sacred duty to an end. Only Zelda accompanies him on this trip. She sits next to him, on the stone steps leading up to the Temple, looking out on Hyrule Field.

“Are you ready?” She asks, softly.

He has the blade out across his lap, tracing the Triforce embossed on it with his fingers. “Soon,” he says. “I just need a minute.”

She slips her arm around his waist and pulls him to her, kissing his temple. “Take your time.”

He doesn’t look up from his blade, lost in his thoughts.

**********

He didn’t go back to Lurelin. Instead, he found a place in the routines of life at the castle. He swung his sword in the yard most days, and found time for more dressage. He learned that Epona could capriole and he has spent hundreds of hours in the saddle, trying to learn how to ask for it, and how to ride it. He is almost there.

The academy offered him his old job back, once it was obvious he had settled into the inner chambers of the castle for good. He is an uncomfortable curiosity there, so he didn’t accept, though he does sometimes guest lecture. Sometimes a star struck young person sought him out. He tries to be kind to them. He wasn't sure exactly when he became a role model. He isn’t sure how it sits with him.

He traded horsemanship lessons for Sheikah sword play with Impa, enjoying their sparring, and how she let him just _be_ with him. When he decides he needs to learn the waltz and other formal dances, he seeks her out as a practice partner because he knows she will just agree, even when she does find it hilarious.

At some point, he moved his things into her rooms.

The dance lessons turn out to be a good idea when, a year after they had left for Ordon, he is gliding her about the dance floor at a ball celebrating Marrin’s coronation. Its another week long party, though it doesn’t seem to have the intensity of a royal wedding to him. He even steals kisses on the dance floor.

Everyone knows already, anyway.

*************

Two years after he came back to the castle, or maybe it was a little longer, he finds himself assisting another Princess Zelda, though she is just a little thing named after her grandmother. He likes to cuddle her, and he enjoys babysitting as much as if she were his. He had never wanted to be a father, but he likes the role of grandpa just fine. Sometimes he wonders if there’s already another Link in the world who might one day be called to her side, though if the goddesses are good, the two may never meet.

He hopes the goddesses are good, it’s not something he assumes anymore.

He still takes the sword in the blue and gold scabbard to the yard to swing it, but maybe not every day. It feels good, even if maybe he isn’t as proficient as he had been. He is going through forms in the yard one afternoon, swinging the sword hard enough to grunt with the effort when there’s a voice at his ear and he stops. He cocks his head, pauses for a minute and then brings the blade up, looking for his reflection. “Okay,” he whispers. “It’s time.”

That night, he is in bed with Zelda. She is reading and absently playing with his hair while he rests his head on her shoulder, watching the rise and fall of her breathing. He asks her a question that makes her set her book down.

“Are you sure? Though I suppose its past time for this.” She asks. 

“I am.”

“Then yes, of course.”

She runs her fingers along his cheek. “I love you, Link.”

It’s not the question he thought he might ask someone someday. He’s not sure he ever really wanted to ask _that_ one to anyone. 

************

He sits with his back to the Temple of Time, aware, maybe for the first time ever, of what it really means, instead of thinking of it as some old ruin that everyone had forgotten about.

He has long lost count of the days since he drew the blade of evil’s bane from a stone pedestal in that ancient place, but he thinks he is closer to 50 than 42. His left leg still reminds him it was injured, and his hips and his back sometimes harmonize. He carries scars on his body and mind from his time in service of the blade. He is ready to bank his coals and rest. 

The Temple is peaceful inside and the light is beautiful. He and Zelda are silent and solemn as they enter the chamber. He has names for the creatures in the stained glass, and he names them in whispers. The Imprisoned. Volvagia. Armoghoma. The pedestal sits in the center of the Temple, bathed in quiet golden light.

He approaches the pedestal, taking the sword in hand one last time, and looks at his reflection, considering the physical changes in him. His hair has gone from a sprinkle of grey to salt and pepper, his temples nearly white. His eyes are defined by the creases around them, though he feels the blue of his iris stil sparkles. He does not consider the Sword that Seals the Darkness a friend, it is still something that traveled with him and changed him. It is also ready to rest and wait for him on the next cycle to come around. He quietly bids the blade farewell, and he thinks that maybe he feels something back, a tinge of sadness? It will miss him, somehow. He flips the blade downward and places it back.

He can feel the stone scrape along the blade, and hear it as well. A piece of him leaves as the blade slides home. He tightens his hands on the hilt as it sinks to a stop and he swallows hard, tears welling in his eyes. When he opens his hands, it’s with a gasp that becomes a quiet sob. 

It’s Zelda who is there when he crumples to the ground this time. She is at his back, with an arm across his chest, holding him close and whispering to him.

When he looks back upon it, the sword doesn’t sparkle to him any more, it sits quietly in its pedestal, back to being a holy curiosity. It is time for them to both rest. He leaves with her, but not before taking her face in his hands and placing his lips on hers.

He knows he will be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roughly a year ago, I published my first thing on AO3, which was an early draft of the first chapter of this story. I’d been playing with the idea a while and finally had to get it down and then I decided everyone had to see it, and I’m of mixed emotions about it now. 
> 
> A year ago, I had no idea I’d be here, with a very strange and tumultuous 12 months behind me, with the bookend to that first draft.
> 
> Thanks for coming along. It’s been an interesting journey, and I’ve met some wonderful folks along the way. I’m not sure what’s next, but I have a couple things I’m kicking around, at least.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Pots](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23348560) by [DrSteggy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrSteggy/pseuds/DrSteggy)
  * [After the Boss Battle](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27463576) by [DrSteggy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrSteggy/pseuds/DrSteggy)




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